The Traveler and the Prince of Gotham
by BL4CK B377Y
Summary: Her's was a mission of light. His was a fight in the dark. Both of them fated to walk their separate paths alone. When they become entwined in each other's worlds, they'll soon find the fight for hope and peace cannot be won without the other.
1. Saint Barbara's Abbey

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or Christian Bale, or anything related to either them or DC comics! I am not making any money off of this! It's merely for my own entertainment, and hopefully to entertain others in the process! Thank you!_**

**_(a/n: I Reworked some of the chapters and chapter titles! Added a pretty major part that I can't believe I had left out! Spread the pieces out to make them fit more evenly! If you can't tell I'm kinda winging it here! I have the entire timeline written down but putting it together has proved challenging! So bear with me here as I think I now have a true bearing on where everything is heading! kThx! _=^.^=_ )_**

**_...||December 5, 1973. Marseilles, France.||..._**

A wailing cry broke through the maelstrom of the night. Lightning and thunderclaps shook the earth as a lithe, hooded figure ran through the streets. She made her way unnoticed with a small blessing, yet her greatest shame, bundled tightly in her arms. Her destination; St. Barbara's Abbey of Light and Life. The woman traveled with a great haste and kept peering behind her as if she thought someone were following her.

As the cloaked woman reached the cover of the cathedral steps she approached the door reverently. She opened her cloak slightly to peer down at the whimpering babe in her arms. Clearly a newborn child, yet its dark raven hair was so thick you'd think her at least a couple weeks old. A drop of water fell into the babe's ebony hair that had not been from the rain. The cloaked woman was crying, tears flowing from her cerulean eyes.

Tentatively, the woman leaned down and laid a soft kiss on the babe's forehead. She then turned her face upwards and closed her eyes, sending a silent prayer to whatever Gods would still listen to her. 'Please... Watch over and protect her... Help her find her way in this world... With the proper guidance she could be better than us all... Grant her the grace and light I have long lost...'

The woman turned her head sharply as if she had heard something. She then draped something around the child's neck before wrapping the weeping babe back up in a purple quilt. The woman stepped up to the door and placed the child gently on the bottom step. She lingered a moment where she placed a kiss upon the child's forehead. It then took her a moment to pry the lock of her red hair from the little girl's small fist.

When the babe began to cry again at the loss of her mother's embrace, the woman stood and pulled the heavy rope that would signal the Cathedral's loud bell. She didn't wait for it to ring, however, before she turned fast on her heels and ran into the night. With the woman's flight, the child's lungs opened again, ushering forth another wail of pain. With the child's cry several more lightning bolts blazed through the sky.

Moments that stretched for ages went by before the large cathedral doors creaked open. A hand carrying a lantern appeared through the crack. As the opening widened it revealed a man in black robes with a white collar, and sandy blonde hair. The gentleman stepped out into the night, peering into the darkness when he almost tripped over something at his feet. He stepped back in even more surprise when the bundle began to sob.

Looking down, he curse, _"Sacrebleu!"_ The man who was clearly a bishop, peered his head back in the doorway, speaking adamantly in French to someone just inside.

Two women adorned in Habit appeared through the open door gasping as they saw the bundle on the ground. The younger of the two, with fair skin and kind eyes lifted the child up, shushing and bouncing it gently in her arms. The other woman, older with a sterner complexion and eyes that had seen much of life, stepped out further from the doorway. She stopped just before the roof cover ended, barely avoiding the rain. With another lantern, the older Sister gazed, squinting out into the night, desperately trying to spot who could have left the child... But there was nothing... No one.

Suddenly the younger woman called out, _"Révérende Mère!"_

The older woman abandoned her surveillance of the streets. Lifting her robes slightly as to not let them drag on the damp stairs, she returned to the younger Sister's side. The younger woman showed the Reverend Mother a necklace that had been draped around the child's neck. It was an amulet of the Saint Barbara. The older woman turned it over in her hand where she read the inscription written on the back;

_"Pensez à votre esprit,  
Ecoutez votre instinct,  
Loi sur vos sentiments,  
et l'amour de toute ton âme!_

_Confiance en vous et dans votre cœur,  
et vous pouvez la lumière du monde!"_

With a few more reverently uttered words in French, the bishop ushered both women inside, with the child. The abbey had a center for orphaned children. The baby girl would be a welcomed addition to their growing number.

**_...Six Years later...  
...||December 16, 1979. St. Barbara's Abbey, Marseilles, France.||..._**

A large group gathered outside of the inferno which had engulfed St. Barbara's Abbey. A dozen of its Sisters were in a panic as they took number of the children around them. The fire department had responded quickly, thank the lord, but it had not been fast enough to save most of the abbey. Nor to save little Mary-Barbara who had still not been accounted for. According to one of the other children, Barbara had been sleeping off a bit of headache in her room. One of the first rooms that had been overtaken by the fire.

Hours passed before the firefighters had put out enough of the flames, in order to be able to perform a thorough and careful search of the building. As the sisters and Reverend Mother watched the men enter the building a sense of sorrow and dread filled the Reverend Mother's heart. Barbara had been one of their most gifted students. She'd just celebrated her Sixth birthday this month, but was already learning at a 4th grade level. At that rate she'd probably have graduated finishing school by 14. A true testament to how their program was working to educate today's lost and abandoned youths. Barbara was gifted, special. Surely, she was going to be able to accomplish great things. Key term there being, "was".

The few bishops their abbey had were occupying themselves with tasks, helping the officials in any way they could, a couple helped mind the children. After a long while in waiting, a char and smoke covered fireman approached the group, mainly addressing the head Bishop, in black robes. He handed the bishop what appeared to be a cracked and charred glass bottle with an ashy rag sticking from the top. It was then they learned the fire had been no accident. All their heart's broke and sank even further. It appeared there was an arsonist on the loose. But why anyone would strike an abbey, a Christian school for children and orphans, was beyond any of them! What evil person would do such a thing?

Just as this news was being processed another commotion began when several voices called out over the Fire Chief's radio. They all looked towards the building. Slowly walking from the smoke and wreckage, two firemen appeared. One was carrying a prone, seemingly lifeless young girl in his arms, her raven black hair falling like a curtain over his arm. Finding the girl wasn't the most extraordinary thing, however, was really miraculous was, that apart from a few smudges and some smoke stain transferred to her from firefighters who'd rescued her, she was positively unscathed. No burns, or abrasions. No singed or scorched flesh or clothing. Her chest was rising and falling evenly, no coughing, or wheezing. Apart from a bloody nose, she was perfectly fine.

One of the female paramedics raced over with a cart and the man laid the girl on it. Immediately, the woman began checking the girl for life signs, damage, injuries, burns, anything, everything. Judging on where the fireman had said they'd found her, the girl should be burnt to a crisp. But here she was. The paramedic wrapped her stethoscope back around her neck and scratched her head. _"Cela n'a aucun sens. Etes-vous sûr que vous avez trouvé l'endroit où elle? Le deuxième étage dortoir?"_

The man who'd carried her out responded, _"Oui! Elle était enroulée dans le coin de la pièce. Comme si elle avait peur quelque chose après elle."_

By all reason and evidence, the girl should be beyond all looked down at the unconscious girl, over a dozen eyes, stared hard at her, some looked on in awe, whispering words about miracles and divine providence, some of them were just down right confused. But behind every set of eyes staring at her, there was downright fear. Fear of what they didn't understand. Fear of what by all they knew, by everything the world, science, everything had taught them, was impossible. Fear of the enigma they could never comprehend. Forget that she could have died in that inferno. Forget that she was just a little girl making her way in life. Forget the prodigy who would rise to do great things. All this girl would be to them now, is terribly wrong.

_**  
(A/N:|| So, how you like so far? Confused yet? Yeah me too!**_

_||French Translations:||_

_Sacrebleu - My God! or Holy Crap!  
Révérende Mère - Reverend Mother_

_Pensez à votre esprit, - Think with your mind,  
Ecoutez votre instinct, - Listen to your Instincts,  
Loi sur vos sentiments, - Act upon your feelings,  
et l'amour de toute ton âme! - and Love with all your soul!  
Confiance en vous et dans votre cœur, - Trust in yourself and in your heart,  
et vous pouvez la lumière du monde! - and you can light up the world!_

_Cela n'a aucun sens. Etes-vous sûr que vous avez trouvé l'endroit où elle? Le deuxième étage dortoir?  
- This makes no sense! Are you sure that's where you found her? The second floor dormitory?  
Oui! Elle était enroulée dans le coin de la pièce. Comme si elle avait peur quelque chose après elle.  
- Yes! She was curled in the corner of the room, as if she were afraid something was after her!_

_**Again translations may not be exact! I used google translate for most of it! And then just what I remembered from french class from high school! (which I can assure you isn't much!)**_

_**Anyhoo! Hope you like it! More coming soon! Thanks! Cheers! **_**=^.^=**_**)**_


	2. Public District Number 4

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or Christian Bale, or anything related to either them or DC comics! I am not making any money off of this! It's merely for my own entertainment, and hopefully to entertain others in the process! Thank you!_**

**_(A/N: For this next part, I didn't feel like translating everything from French to English and so on and so forth. But, logically natives of France would speak French to each other, not English. So please, use your imaginations and realize, that though written in English, obviously they'd be speaking in French. Kthx!)_**

**_...||October 30, 1981. Marseilles, France. City Orphanage, Public District No. 4||..._**

Two years and they still talked about that tragic day at the Abbey, about her miraculous survival. Gone were the private Christian School lessons. Gone were the welcoming, loving, and proud faces of the Sisters who'd helped raise her. Here she only knew sadness, and torment. Not just from the children, but from the recesses of her own mind.

She couldn't stop dreaming of fire. Every time she closed her eyes it was everywhere, licking at the edge of her reach but never touching her. Making her temperature rise and her blood hot, but never actually burning her. There were few nights went by that she didn't wake from a dream with her sheets soaked from perspiration, and also from a more shameful side effect of her fear.

Not only did the children pick on her mercilessly, but many of her teachers looked upon her in similar loathing as well. She couldn't help it if she was able to point out a flaw or two in a teacher's instruction. It wasn't her fault that she could see the broader scope of Galileo's and Einstein's theory of relativity and space; that she could define just how small and minuscule we all really are in the grand scheme of things; the universe. She only wanted to learn, to help, to grow. But she seemed squandered at every turn. All because of that stupid fire.

She still prayed every night, and occasionally visited the old Abbey, which was still in reconstruction. There she was welcomed with hugs, and tea and cookies. In those small moments she wasn't a freak, just a young girl with a gift. A blessing from God just like any child brought into this world. In those moments she remembered women greater than her who had faced trials much worse than hers, and survived, all for a greater cause. To change the world. Putting a fine point on it however, a lot of her hope she only maintained to make the Sisters happy. They had taken her in, raised her, taught her. She didn't want to let them down, she owed them that much.

-----

With All Hallows eve looming near, the entire orphanage was in a tizzy. Kids deciding on costumes, running rampant with the idea of how many sweets their pillow cases and candy bags would rake in. Even Barbara had found herself looking forward to it. She decided she wanted to dress up as a doctor. It was simple enough. White coat, pocket full of pens, and a Stethoscope the Orphanage's resident nurse had loaned her.

The nurse had seen Barbara on many occasions. Scrapes, bruises, black eyes, on one occasion a broken wrist. She often caught herself thinking, though, that never once had she treated Barbara for a common cold. No spot of flu or fever. No sniffles, or ear infections. Every time she treated little Babs was only for wounds of some sort or another. She had taken pity on the girl, tried to take care of her as much as she could from her position of little power in the west wing.

Barbara had been so ecstatic over the medical instrument around her neck, she'd spent most of this Sunday morning in her dormitory with the Stethoscope plugged into her ears, breathing into it, listening to her own heart beat, holding it up to the walls. Having such a grand time that she'd forgotten to remove it when she ventured to the playground that resided in the courtyard of the Orphanage. She was minding her own business, caught in her own world of beauty and light and sound, that she ignored the danger she sensed tickling at the back of her neck.

She had found a spot in the grassy area of the courtyard and was kneeling down, stethoscope pressed to the ground, listening to the earth worms slithering underneath. Her eyes were closed and she had a soft smile on her face. She looked so innocent in that moment, so surreal, and pure. So enraptured in this world of sound. Lost in such a wonderful place, she hadn't noticed the playground go quiet, nor that most of the children had retreated indoors.

A hard kick to her stomach harshly jogged her from her momentary bliss when the air was forced painfully from her lungs. From her back, Barbara looked up only to see a pair of hands lift her from the ground by her shirt only to shove her back towards the wall. It was Enrie; a vicious 14 year old with a juvenile record as tall as she was. He'd had his sights set on Barbara ever since she'd come here. At first Barbara had tried talking to him on several occasions. The boy had seemed alone, just like herself, and she had tried reaching out to him. She didn't realize Enrie was alone because he chose to be that way. A very bad mistake on her part, for as far as she could guess, he'd mistaken her would be kindness as permission to dog her til her dying day. She made it a point to avoid him at all costs, these days.

Barbara swallowed hard and slowly backed away from him, her cherished stethoscope lying bent and forgotten on the ground. "I don't want any trouble, Enrie. I will go, and leave you be. Please?" She implored him, stretching her hands to him in supplication.

Enrie only smirked and grabbed one of her outstretched hands roughly by the wrist. "I think you do want trouble. I think you've wanted it since the day you came here." He looked her over with a glint in his eyes that made her shiver in disgust.

Barbara swallowed hard yet again. He was backing her into a corner, which she didn't realize until she felt the intersecting wall press against her arm and by then it was too late. Her eyes widened and she tried to run but the older boy blocked her in with his arm. He was so close she could feel his breath on her face. She took a shallow breath in, trying to swallow down the lump of fear in her throat, trying to not throw up at the way he pressed his face against her neck and inhaled deep through his nose.

"Please, Enrie, I beg you to-"

"Beg me to what?" He cut her off. "I haven't even begun to make you beg yet!" He put his hand in her hair, and another wave of nausea threatened to bring her to her knees.

One of the windows facing the courtyard on the third floor opened suddenly, and Nurse Helena poked her head out, yelling down at them, "Enrie Angiers you leave that poor girl be _this instant!_" Barbara had never heard such anger in the woman's voice before. She sounded murderous.

Enrie glanced behind himself, and taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Barbara lifted her knee, connecting hard with a certain part of Enrie's anatomy. When he cringed over grabbing for his wounded pride, she dodged him and took off running. He buckled his pain and slowly clambered up to chase after her.

Barbara made her way for the chain link fence which stretched along the entire back length of the courtyard. He panic began to rise when she discovered there was no gate. There was, however, a very small break between the fence and the building. She just may be smallenough to squeeze through. Nearly free from the confined space, her wrist was wrenched back as Enrie reached and grabbed hold of her jacket. Barbara screamed but managed to roll herself out of her coat, leaving it in Enrie's hand.

The boy grunted in murderous rage and threw the jacket on the ground, furiously. When he heard the whistle blow behind him, an officer coming out the door with the nurse right behind, Enrie squinted his eyes in a hateful glare. It was only a moment til the glare turned into a smirk. No way was he going back to that detention center. At least not before he got that little bitch back for ruining his sport.

Enrie turned, grabbed hold of the grating and, from years of experience no doubt, he deftly climbed over the seven foot high fence, making it appear easy. He then crudely cupped his crotch with one hand and gave the "pigs" and the nurse a "two fingered salute" with the other. He then turned, taking off in the direction the little girl had ran.

-----

Barbara was crying. The tears streaming down her face froze to her cheeks as the cold October winds stung her face. She could barely see past the water in her eyes, and she didn't rightly know where she was going, only that she wanted to be as far away from that orphanage as possible. Her lack of direction became dangerously evident when she took a wrong turn which led her right down a dead alley. She hadn't even really noticed it was a blind alley until she'd almost run dead into the wall.

Shocked, Barbara stammered back and turned to exit the alley when she caught sound of fast approaching footfalls. There was a set of gated stairs that led down to a basement door of the building next to her. There were trash bags all around and she nearly gagged from the smell of rotting refuse. Disregarding everything, she jumped over the gate, practically fell down the stairs before she pressed herself to the corner, hugging her legs tightly to her chest. She was fighting with herself now. Part of her was terrified of this cold dark trap she'd cowered in, another part was telling her that hiding meant surviving, and even another part was screaming at her to get up and keep running. Barbara closed her eyes, hugged her legs tighter and rocked subtly back and forth. She shivered almost violently and it was only partly from the cold.

He'd seen a flash disappear down this alley, he knew it, only when he turned there had been nothing there. "Hide and seek is it, now?" Barbara heard him chuckle softly, making a cold shiver race up her spine. "Just so happens to be my favorite game." He continued and she closed her eyes, praying to God to make her invisible. To turn her to stone. Make her a bird to fly away. Save her from this young madness.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are?" His sing song voice reverberated off the alley walls, making Barbara want to curl further into herself. She heard his footsteps get closer, and then stop and she held her breath.

"You know, it is very dark in this alley. Perhaps I should... _Blaze_ it up." She heard the tell tale sound of a Zippo clicking open and a flame flickering to life. Sheer terror rose like bile in her throat and she screamed. Quickly she stood and attempted to run out of the stairwell when there was suddenly a wall of boy in her path. She ran into him hard and fell back to the ground. He had the lighter in front of him as she crabwalked back against the wall, like a caged rabbit.

The evil smirk was back on his face, "What's the matter little girl? You're not afraid of a little fire are you?" Enrie moved the lighter close, trying to set part of her clothing on fire. As soon as the flame got within arms reach of the girl, however, it sizzled out as if a drop of water had just fallen on the flame. Barbara swallowed hard when Enrie stared at the lighter and scratched his head. The flame of a real Zippo could withstand up to 35 mph winds. Slight movement would not blow it out. Barbara used the wall as leverage as she walked her hands up it to pull herself to a standing position.

A soft thunderclap reverberated in the sky and she looked up through the buildings. When had the grey clouds rolled in?

She tried to implore Enrie's good side again. Leave it to her, in the most dire of situations to always try to see the good in everyone. "Please, Enrie, don't do-"

"Shut up!" He put his hand around her throat, using it to hold her against the wall. She tried to beat his hand away, but he only gripped tighter when she did. He ignited the lighter again and once more attempted to set the hem of her shirt on fire. Just like the last time, however, the flame sizzled out the second it got within a foot from the girl. Trying a different approach, Enrie brought the lighter to the hem of her shirt and then tried igniting it. The wheel sparked but never produced a flame.

Enrie looked up into her eyes then before whispering, "What the hell are you? Fucking witch!" He roughly grabbed Barbara by her hair to pull her out of the stairwell with him. With his hand still gripped painfully in her hair, he pushed her down to her knees and pulled her head back in a painful angle.

"Enrie, why are you doing this?" she tried to implore him one last time.

Suddenly, he slapped Barbara so hard she went sprawling on the alley floor with a bleeding split on her cheek. Why the hell did she always have to say his name that way? To look at him with those eyes? Like she was trying to pull something from his dark and demented soul? There was nothing there left to save, so why the hell did she keep trying? It drove him insane! Like the look she was giving him now; a mix between hurt dear and lost kitten. It made him want to gauge her eyes out just so she'd stop looking at him like that.

Enrie licked his lips and wiped his hands over his face. When the hell had it started to rain? It wasn't hard rain, just sprinklings. Bad sign. He had to end this now, _had_ to. She'd taken some of his power away, and he was going to get it back. One way or another, he would take that power back. Fuck the pleading in her eyes.

He dragged her by her hair again, shoving her on top of a pile of garbage bags. He picked up a discarded piece of newspaper and once more ignited the Zippo. He held it to the edge of the newspaper and it flared to brilliant crimson life. Barbara was terrified but also mesmerized by the sight.

"What's that line you God-mongers say?" The fire reflected ominously in his eyes as he stared at the dancing flame. He then turned to look at her, their eyes locked. "Oh, that's right... Earth to earth... Ashes to ashes." At that he threw the flaming paper into the debris and the garbage quickly ignited, creating a growing inferno.

Once she realized his intentions, Barbara tried to pull herself out from the mountain of garbage he'd thrown her into, but the flames made fast fork of the assorted refuse. As a natural reaction, Barbara backed away from the fire until once again she found herself cowering in a corner, waiting to be overtaken and destroyed by her greatest fear. She closed in on herself, burying her face in her arms, curling as far into a ball as she could manage. She waited for the painful and bitter end. But all she did was wait. When she dared open her eyes and raise her head, she gasped and cried out when all she could see was fire all around her. She was trapped in the middle of it. The wispy tendrils looked as though they were desperately trying to reach her, but were stopped by some invisible barrier holding them back. The flames licked and whipped like fingers yearning to touch her. She could do naught but stare in bewilderment and horror.

The rain grew thicker, heavier, turning into a welcomed onslaught. Barbara tentatively stood up and examined herself with her hands. She felt her face, the pendant around her neck, her clothing, her hair. Everything was intact. Unscorched and unscathed. She gazed from the dying fire, to her hands, all the while asking in her head over and over, _What am I?_

The rain was coming down heavier now. She could hear the drops sizzling as they touched the fires and embers. Above everything, however, she heard an outraged cry of, "NO!" which she could only imagine had come from Enrie. Barbara looked up where she saw him pointing at her accusingly, "You should be dying, you fucking witch! I burned you alive! You're dead! I... I killed you!"

Everything suddenly seemed to slow down, as if she were apart from herself, watching everything in super slow motion. Enrie lunged at her with a knife he procured from seemingly out of nowhere with a maniacal war cry ushering from his throat. Barbara braced herself for his strike, instinctively bringing her arms up to prepare for the attack. There was a loud clap of thunder above them that left them both deaf, just as a wicked bolt of lightning lanced down from the heavens. The bolt struck Enrie hard, the metal knife in his outstretched hand acting as a sort of conduit for the energy.

It wasn't until the bolt receded that time seemed to return to its normal flow. Barbara looked on in horror as the boys eyes turned to solid white, and he fell to the ground, lifeless. It was too much. The sounds, the sight, the smell of fire, ash and burnt flesh. Barbara turned away from the scene where she collapsed to her hands and knees and expelled the contents of her stomach. She'd never been so terrified in her life. Terrified for Enrie, for herself.

When she heard the police sirens in the distance she panicked. Somehow she felt as if it were her fault, and the guilt washing over her was unbearable. She didn't want to hurt him, even if he was trying to kill her. She only wanted him to let her go. She never wished him harm. It was all too much. She was overwhelmed, terrified, hysterical, not to mention undoubtedly suffering from shock. So when the sirens grew louder, the fire department responding to the smoke someone had obviously seen from earlier, Barbara came up with the only logical conclusion she could see in her current state. She made for the mouth of the alley, looked both ways down the street, chose one direction and started running. No one was chasing her this time but she ran as if afraid to stop. She had no direction, no road, only that she had to get as far away as possible from this place of terror and death. She needed to get lost, for that was how she felt. So lost. So afraid. So alone. _Please, God! Mother! Anyone listening to me! Please!... Help me!_

_-----  
_

He'd been watching the scene play out with detachment and speculation. Not to mention with a smirk that grew wider on his face when he'd watched her gifts start to truly open up. Like a caged lion, she'd struck out at her attacker. Even if she didn't know it, her mind did. _Give her time,_ he said to himself. _Let her lose herself like she seems so desperately to want to. Let her feel that utter desperation that comes with such a choice. Then you will claim her, and she will be yours. By your side. Making the world a better place for many more generations to come._ For now he would stay in the shadows, just as he'd always done for centuries.

_**(Another chappie done! Any feedback is greatly appreciated! Cheers! **_**=^.^=**_**)**_


	3. The Silk Market Road

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or Christian Bale, or anything related to either them or DC comics! I am not making any money off of this! It's merely for my own entertainment, and hopefully to entertain others in the process! Thank you!**_

_**...||January 23, 1985. The Silk Market Road. Beijing, China.||...**_

She'd been tracking her mark since she'd seen him leave The Silk Market. Wealthy English foreigner. Such an easy mark. With the money from his wallet, she could feed her little "family" of misfits for a month. At least! She licked her lips, practically salivating at the prospect. Her stomach even growled at her in anticipation. She couldn't even remember the last time any of them had had something that could even remotely resemble actual food.

It was perfect for he was coming right her way. The streets were beyond crowded this time a day, everyone brushing shoulders. Rush hour. The best time for them. He was getting closer. She'd become an expert at picking pockets, a trait she rather resented about herself. Her conscience didn't allow her to do it that often, but still when she did, she always felt bad about it. But a man like him, surely he wouldn't miss a couple hundred Yuan!

He was close now. Wait for it, wait for it... Now!... She bumped into him by accident, apologizing in Mandarin, expertly sliding her hand to his pocket, coming out with his wallet. A grin spread across her face, which promptly fell as a large hand grabbed her wrist pulling it up to a painful position.

"Hēi! Ràng wǒ zǒu!" She struggled but the man in the expensive jacket and clothes did not release her. He looked down at her in a sort of reprimanding manor as he took his wallet from her hand.

The man had a very thick English accent, his voice calm and smooth. Not angry. That surprised her a little, "Now, now! That doesn't belong to you!" She still struggled to release herself from him.

"Let me go!" Her English was laced heavily with a French cadence.

When a loud and shrill whistle echoed from their left, she gasped and struggled harder to release her hand. She wouldn't survive another visit to the children's detention center. "Release me, please," her eyes were pleading and watery. "S'il vous plaît! I beg you, monsieur!"

Her pleading would seem of no use however, for the police officers were upon them and she would not be able to pull herself form the man's very strong and firm grip. The girl sighed heavily and her shoulders slouched in defeat.

The officer blowing the whistle approached first, yelling in broken English, "What's happening here?" His eyes fell upon the girl, then the wallet, and then widened in anger, "You again? I warned you the next time I-"

"It's quite alright officer!" The Englishman with chestnut brown hair and a chiseled face and goatee spoke up. Both the officer and the girl turned confused eyes upon him. A very charming smile graced his lips before he continued, "The young lady was merely returning the wallet I dropped." At that, the Englishman held up his wallet and released the girl's wrist as he flipped open the leather. "I was simply trying to offer her a reward for her honesty in returning it to me, intact. A reward which, if I'm not mistaken, she was attempting to refuse?" He pulled out 300 Yuan, offering it to the girl.

She looked at the cash and the man with suspicion. She wasn't a moron, however, so she took the offered hand-out without question. "Merci, monsieur-I mean, thank you! Anyone would have done the same, I'm sure!" She smiled softly, and the word innocent could be used to describe that look on her face.

The gathered officers looked upon the whole situation with skepticism and suspicion. But at a gentle and grateful nod from the Englishman, they turned from the scene and walked away. The girl let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding before she turned back to the Englishman, "Not that I am ungrateful, monsieur, but why did you do that?"

He merely smiled that same charming smile and chuckled softly, "Why does anyone do anything? Curiosity? Passion? Need? Survival? Desperation? All of the above?... There is a purpose behind every action, my dear."

"But I stole from you!?"

"Ah! Attempted to steal from me!" He corrected her, to her chagrin.

"Regardless... What, uh, purpose could there be in helping a, a, zut!" She was having trouble finding the correct word. Her eyes brightened when she remembered it, "A pickpocket? Even a lousy one at that..." Her accent was very thick and she tripped over several words. It was obvious she hadn't had the need to speak English in some time.

"What purpose did you have in picking my pocket?" He raised a single eyebrow at her in question, making her brow furrow together for the same reason. The only response forthcoming was her growling stomach and she wrapped her arms around her middle in embarrassment. He chuckled again.

"Come, young lady. Let's get you something to eat, shall we?" He attempted to lead her on towards a nearby restaurant, the owner of which was a close friend of his.

She followed behind him slowly, thinking very seriously about making a run for it. Everything was telling her to try, but she hesitated. He didn't turn to look at her when he spoke next. He merely kept walking, yet it was obvious he was speaking to her, "The way I see it, you have two options... Come and have lunch with me, where you can tell me all about how such a young and beautiful creature such as yourself ended up out here so far from everything she knows, where perhaps I could help you create a life again? Or... I can call the officer back and you can wither away and die, suffering and all alone, in some rancid detention center in Beijing?" He finally looked at her again, his eyes serious, but she could see the tenderness underneath the sternness. She stopped and blinked hard. "The choice is yours," he finished and kept walking.

She worried her bottom lip, and brought her hand up where she idly played with the pendant that hung around her neck. She closed her eyes tightly and found herself seriously contemplating, yet again, if she should try to make a run for it. However, as if answering the internal debate for her, her stomach growled loudly once more. She sighed, resigning to her current situation, and ran to catch up with him. He smirked again when he saw her return to his side, never doubting the decision she'd make. "I think you will like this place," he said. "The owner is a personal friend of mine and the food is exceptional!"

She was yet again salivating at the prospect of food. REAL food.

"What is your name?" He asked, jarring her from her fantasies of dumplings and egg rolls.

"What?" She shook her head. "Pour quoi, monsieur?" She was seriously taken back. No one had asked for her name in a long time. Not even for her week long stint in that child's detention center had they asked for her name.

There was that smile again, "Well I could just keep calling you young lady, but that's hardly the way to go about making new friends, now is it?"

She blinked again. It had been a long time since she'd known someone long enough for them to care what her name was. Not to mention, the last "friend" she had tried to make had attempted setting her on fire. She fingered the fabric of her shirt where her pendant rested on the other side, out of sight. She sighed. Her instincts warned her to be careful how much trust she put in this man, but she had no severe misgivings from him so far, so she would answer his question. "At the Abbey they called me Barbara." A half-hearted, crooked smile graced her lips. She hated that name.

He smiled and paused, turning to her. "Well Barbara," he reached his hand out for her to take which she just stared at, at first. He then continued, "It has been most interesting making your acquaintance!" He smiled, making her smile in return. Her full smile was much more becoming than the forced one. She took his hand as he took on this grand air about him, "I am Ra's al Ghul," he bowed over her hand, as if greeting royalty.

She couldn't help but be wrapped up in his game and she returned his bow with a rather graceful curtsy of her own, covering her giggle with her hand. "Ever so pleased to meet you, kind monsieur!" When they stood he offered her his right arm which she took, wrapping her hand around his elbow as he lead her down the street.

_**(A/N: So, how you like so far? Confused yet? Yeah me too!**_

_**||Chinese Translations||  
Hēi! Ràng wǒ zǒu! - Hey! Let me go! (I think, I used google translate and this other Chinese character pronunciation page! I'm probably way off the mark though!)**_

_**||French Translations:||  
Monsieur - sir, or mister. formal term  
S'il vous plaît - Please! - formal term  
zut - damn!**_

_**Again translations may not be exact! I used google translate for most of it! And then just what I remembered from french class from high school! (which I can assure you isn't much!)  
Anyhoo! Hope you like it! More coming soon!... I hope! Thanks again! **_******=^.^=**_****__)_  



	4. The House of Shadows

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, or Christian Bale, or anything related to either them or DC comics! I am not making any money off of this! It's merely for my own entertainment, and hopefully to entertain others in the process! Thank you!_**

**_(A/N: When Ra's is speaking with his men, their dialogue is written in Italics because I would like to convey that they would be speaking in Chinese to each other! Just to clarify! Thanks for reading! Peace and love to all!)_**

**_...||October 10, 1988. Beijing, China. Base of the League of Shadows, Home of Ra's alGhul||..._**

It had been almost four years since she'd come to this place. Four years since she'd said goodbye to the children she'd bonded with when she found herself in Beijing. It had been out of a need to help them, to provide for them, that she'd been forced to learn the thieving trade. She tried honest work at first to earn money, food or medicine, anything that they might need. It became evident, however, that there was no respectable or honest work to be had for a young girl in Beijing. That is what had led her to picking pockets in the first place. It was out of a need to help those even worse off than herself, that led her to pick Ra's' pocket those few years ago.

She had put a trust in him she probably shouldn't have, but Ra's treated her very well and had charmed his way into her life. He became a father figure she never had growing up. Barbara had, had misgivings in the start about abandoning her group of misfits, but Ra's had promised she could deliver the additional 600 yuan he'd given her to them, as well as promising he'd have his people watch out for them. 600 Yuan wasn't by any means a fortune, but with Ra's' help it would give them all a better chance to survive in their cold hungry world.

Ra's had told her it would be a hard journey and he hadn't been exaggerating. In the cold of winter they had hiked up the mountain to his mansion. She'd nearly caught her death from cold but she recovered quickly..

Barbara had never seen a house so big. Even all these years later, it still didn't feel quite like a true home, but it was close enough. She'd come a long way from that dying scrap of a girl she had once been. She had grown much into her own right. More confident in herself, clear headed, graceful. She had slight muscles under subtle teenage curves. Truly she would become a breathtaking woman. She was not gorgeous or beautiful by any means. She just had this beauty and grace about her that would surely turn lots of heads one day.

Ra's had taken her in like his own child, an easy task as she reminded him so much of his beloved Sora that he imagined Barbara to be very much like how their own child would have been if they'd had one. He'd taught her many of the ways of the ninja; of finding her inner peace; how to know her true self; how to see past her fears. Though the latter element still escaped her in many ways. She hadn't dreamed of fire in quite some time, but she still panicked in enclosed spaces. In the beginning she had found it easy to open up to him, and he truly seemed to listen and understand how hard her life had been. He also recognized her intelligence and uniqueness and encouraged her to express herself. He had taught her so much of life. She really felt that once her training here was done, she could help make a difference in the world.

She was meditating in the garden, when he came looking for her. It had taken her quite some time to get used to the utter quiet and stillness meditating brought. Growing up in a house of dozens of children made the silence seem wrong, somehow. Unsettling. At this point, however, she'd grown used to it where it was comforting to her.

Recently, however, the silence had started to nag at the back of her mind. As if something important was trying to get out, demanding she pay attention to it. Yet, like she'd done many times since meeting Ra's, she ignored the inscribed prayer of her mother and fought against her instincts. It was easier to pretend she didn't notice things about Ra's and his men. Easier to disregard the darkness she sometimes saw in Ra's' eyes when he looked at her in those few unguarded moments.

"Babs, oh..." He walked out to the garden thinking he might find her running her hands in the water, teasing the Coy in the pond as she often did. When he walked in on her meditating he paused and smiled. She had truly grown into her own these past years. He had little doubt that soon she would be ready to help his plan come to fruition.

Several moments passed until she brought her hands up pressing her palms together and lowered her pressed hands to her chest exhaling deeply. She blinked her eyes open and stood. She brushed off her backside and turned slowly, startling when she saw Ra's standing there watching her.

She gripped her hand over her heart, "Sacrebleu! Ducard? You of all people should know, it is very rude sneaking up on someone when they are meditating!" She'd gotten used to calling him Ducard, which he said was his "formal" name. She did not mind it. It was a nickname she'd adapted quickly, just as he'd taken to the habit of calling her Babs. It bothered her at first but the more he said it, the more she grew fond of the nickname. Little did she know all of it, his charm, his wit, his familial nature, the nicknames, the spoiling, were all just devices to get close to her, to make her guard drop, to trust him.

He chuckled and smiled that ever charming smile, "My deepest apologies, Babs. I meant no harm."

She smiled, "What is it? Not more lessons?" She groaned, grimacing at the idea. She'd just finished training with him for six hours straight.

"No, nothing like that." He chuckled to himself when the smile lit her face again. He continued, "I was merely coming to tell you that supper is ready."

Her grin widened further, and she ran to him taking his offered elbow of escorting her to dine. "What did cooky make this time, hm?"

"Roast duck and cabbage spring rolls, I believe." He smiled down at her and ruffled her hair softly.

She giggled and ducked away from his hand. As they crossed the courtyard and into the living hall, her eyes suddenly widened and she did a back spin, kicking out at the figure who'd dropped down from the ceiling, knife in hand. She hit him square in his chest, knocking the wind harshly from his lungs and sending him falling back. There was a crash and several of Ducard's men were on him, relieving him of his weapon and bringing him before Ducard, whom had been his intended victim. Barbara did not relax her fighting stance, keeping her feet spread evenly and her hands up, ready for another attack.

Ducard's eyes burned fire into the man and he ordered the men in Chinese, to take the would-be-assassin away. It was a side of Ra's Barbara had never seen before, yet somehow she'd always known it was there, lurking underneath.

He turned back to Barbara, his face calm and smiling once more. Impressive that she'd sensed the attack and he had not. She was truly rising above his expectations. "I believe we were heading to dinner were we not?"

She took his arm again, though her smile wasn't as big, and her caution lights were screaming in her mind. If she recalled correctly that man had been wearing the colors of the local tribe, which were a peaceful people. Built around a Buddhist monastery. Why would they be after Ducard, trying to kill him?

-----

After sitting at a table with a plate full of roast duck and a couple spring rolls, Barbara found herself only taking a few bites then just pushing her food around the plate. With a mouth half full, Ducard indicated her plate, then inquired, "Usually you attack your food as if you hadn't eaten all week? What seems to be bothering you, my dear?" He paused, where he set his fork down then folded his hands in front of his plate. "Is it that man from the courtyard?"

"No," she put her fork down and crossed her arms as she leaned back in her chair. "Yes!" She cried out, shooting herself forward where she picked up her fork again and poked at the duck kebab on her plate. "I just 'aven't been able to make sense of it in my head, Ducard. The villagers are a peaceful people. Why would they try and send someone to kill you?"

"Babs, listen to me." He stopped her hand, which was stabbing the already dead duck on her plate. "Some men do not understand nor appreciate the work we are trying to do here. They know we are changing the world, and they fear that change. Just as those who would claim to love you, feared you when they noticed the changes in yourself. They feared your mind, your strength, your light... Just as _they_ feared the greatness in _you_, these people fear the great things we might do."

She pushed her plate away and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms again, pouting as the teenage girl in her shined through. In a rather moody tone she inquired, "How he even got inside the manor is what _I_ would like to know?"

Ducard himself pondered on that same question. He'd have to have a long, **_long_** chat with their uninvited guest. But first things first. "Come now, Babs. You and I will meditate together before turning in for the night." He took up both their plates. Never had he ever seen so much food left on her plate before. He left the dishes in the kitchen and followed after her to the Temple room.

_**......Later that night......**_

_She was surrounded by a raging inferno. She could hear people screaming. Blood curdling sounds that had her head swimming and her stomach turning, overwhelmed by nauseousness. She tried to turn away from it but it was everywhere. There were people in there, burning alive, screaming for her. She wanted to run to help them, to find them and drag them all to safety, but her legs wouldn't move. Suddenly in the midst of the blaze an image appeared coming, and closer until she could clearly make out the image of a man. A man she knew._

_She gasped and swallowed hard trying to call for him to run from this hell. When he turned towards her, however, she gasped again and fear for his safety turned into just plain fear. Instead of viewing this scene in horror like any sane person would, he was grinning. That same smirk he'd turned on her dozens of times. Where the fire surrounding her didn't dare touch her, his eyes burned into her soul. She wanted to scream but no sound was coming._

_The hairs all over her body stood on end when he reached one of his large hands out to her, whispering to her with that silk tongue of his, "Take my hand, Barbara, and we can change the face of this world. Together, you and I, we will make this world better. Rid it of all it's evil. Come."_

_She shook her head side to side, "No, no, no, no, no." She didn't want any of this. She wanted to help change the world, not destroy it. What had she let herself fall into?_

_Suddenly, Ra's' hand grabbed for her wrist and his skin singed and burned where it came into contact with her skin, and they both cried out in pain._

A silent scream formed on her mouth as she woke with a start. She was panting hard, and her sheets, pillow and clothes were positively soaked from perspiration. She'd tossed so much the top sheet was twisted around her almost like a vice.

It had only been a nightmare, but it had all felt so real. Too real. She had to speak with Ducard. Maybe he'd know what it meant. Maybe he could help her translate meaning from such an intense nightmare. At least he always managed to comfort her when she had dreams of fire. She untangled herself from her sheets, not bothering to change or freshen up, she went searching for her mentor.

What she came upon when she found him only strengthened the doubt and fear in her heart.

A man was hanging from a chain in the ceiling. Naked from the waist up. His face was swollen, broken, and bleeding. As she gazed harder, Barbara realized that it was the same man from the courtyard. She could tell from her vantage that his right shoulder was dislocated as his arm was bent at a very unnatural angle.

To her near horror, Ra's walked up and slapped the broken man a few times until he moaned, signaling he was conscious again. The strong hand which had escorted her on so many walks, was the same hand that reached for the man's blood soaked hair and pulled, wrenching the man's head painfully back. Ra's was speaking to him in his native Mandarin tongue.

_"I admire your stamina. Surely you have been trained well. But rest assure, you will tell me what I want to know, one way or another. Who sent you here?"_ The man did not reply but he did manage to spit out a mouthful of blood on the ground at Ra's' feet.

One of the guards walked forward, after pouring a mound of salt onto his hand, where he then rubbed the grains into the open cuts on the man's back, which had been caused undoubtedly by a whip. The man screamed but he said nothing, but Ra's would not give up so easily. He disappeared from Barbara's line of sight, only to return a moment later with a pair of rusted plant shears. Barbara's eyes widened in terror as her trusted sensai began to use the shears to slowly cut the man's fingers off, one by one. Barbara started to cry as the man's screams filled her mind, mixing with the screams from people in her dream.

How could she have been so blind and stupid as to trust such a clearly evil man? Horrified at herself and the situation, Barbara turned to run, to try to get as far as possible from this place of death as she could. She had only managed to inch back a few feet from the doorway when she heard Ra's' men speaking. _"If he was going to tell us anything, my lord, he would have done so by now. No man could withstand this."_

Ra's' eyes never left the bloodied and broken man when the corner of his mouth quirked up in a half smirk and he said, _"You'd be surprised what a man could bring himself to bear, if he truly believed in his cause, my friend."_

Barbara peered back around the corner just as Ra's nodded his head curtly to his men. He turned away as he removed the spiked leather gloves from his hands. Barbara couldn't help but watch as one of the Ninjas approached the tortured man from behind and moved his hands to break the man's neck.

"No!" A loud crack followed her scream as the man's neck was twisted and broken. All three men turned simultaneously to her position but she had already started running.

She'd walked these halls countless times in the past four years, but she had never had to run them before. In her haste, she couldn't tell if she had taken the right turns to get to the front door. A hand came out of seemingly nowhere, grabbing her at the neck and lifting her from the ground. Her hands immediately went for the wrist but the man's grip was strong, unyielding. A voice shouted in Chinese behind her, and the hand dropped her.

She landed roughly on the hardwood floor and kicked out with her foot, tripping the man who'd just held her in his grip. There was no hesitation as she kicked up to a standing position when more men appeared in every doorway. How the hell did she let herself end up in this predicament?

Ra's stood out from the gathering crown with his hands clasped together in front of him. The smirk which she no longer saw the charm in was plastered on his face. "Babs, my dear. Just where do you think you're running off to?" He was condescending her, and she wanted to punch that smile off his face.

"You are an evil man! I have finally been shown what lies in your soul, and I will be no part of it!" She glared daggers at him.

He merely chuckled, "But my dear you are _already_ a part of it"

She did another back spin, kicking out at the guard behind her. Three of Ra's' ninjas were upon her ready to beat her to nothing. She fought them back but only for a moment before Ra's was calling them off. Two men held her between them stopping her from lashing out.

He approached her and leaned down to her level looking her in the eyes, the soft caring smile back on his face. "What is it you think you saw, child? That man would never have told us who was trying to stop us from ridding this world of evil if we had not done those things."

The jaw muscles in her cheeks worked as she bit back the tears, she would not cry in front of him, not now. "You enjoyed doing those things! Just as you enjoyed the screams from burning an entire city to the ground!" She practically shouted at him in a very accusatory tone.

He flinched back but only slightly, "Who told you this?"

"No one! I saw it! With my own eyes! I saw you savoring the pain of thousands! You are Evil! And I blinded myself to that evil!" She blinked back the tears. "But never again! I will not let you take me there!"

She'd _seen_ it. Surely the girl was growing strong if she was capable of such a feat. Only question remaining was, did she see the past, or the future? "Whatever it is you think you saw, I assure you it was the only way to cleanse the world of a people who had become so evil and corrupt that they were destroying not only themselves, but the world around them. Don't you see, my child! Fire is the purest way to cleanse the world of any evil taint! Why else do you think I chose it as the force to cleanse your abbey of the Bishop, whose evil tastes had turned to young girls, specifically towards you?"

Her eyes widened to saucers. "What-Fire-You did-" Her teeth clenched hard before she went off on a wild tangent; swearing, rambling, yelling all kinds of obscenities and vows in her native tongue. After several moments she turned her anger back to him, "You could have killed everyone! You could have killed me!" Tears stung and burned her eyes, making them water slightly.

She had sensed the Bishop's desires for her all those long years ago, but he had never acted on them. He knew his feelings were wrong, and like the good man he was, he was abstaining himself from them. It was that good she had always tried to see in all men. She had hoped her influence on Ra's' life might have had the same effect. She had sensed something off about him from the start, but deep down, she had hoped she could change him. She knew now, this was a kind of evil she may never be able to overcome. Not only that, but she had placed herself in grave danger by letting herself fall into the middle of it.

"You and I both know very well the fire would have never touched you." She was crying now, sagging in the men's grips until they let her go and she crumpled to the floor. Ra's crouched in front of her, lifting her head in his hand, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

She turned her head away from him harshly, whispering, "I hate you."

"Good/ As well you should hate me. That hate will give you strength for what is to come! We will make the world a better place, you and I! Don't you see, darling? You are a key to our success. Together we will save the world from it's greatest enemy... Itself. We will mold our followers into true believers." He reached a hand towards her and she was harshly reminded of her dream. She knew if she reached for his hand now, she would burn forever.

Barbara was overcome by his betrayal; by guilt for ignoring her mother's last prayer for her and trusting him when everything she knew, everything she'd been taught, had screamed at her to get away. However, there was only one thing she could do now. She'd fallen in so deep, there was really only one road left for her to take. With those thoughts in mind, slowly Barbara reached her hand out for his... Only to slap it away

Catching him off guard, she used the palm of her hand to break his nose, just like he'd expertly taught her so long ago. She kicked out, tripping one of the men behind her where she then made a run for it. She ducked arms, weaved in and out of doorways. She was driven with an overwhelming desire. To get free and somehow find the means to stop him, to prove to him, to herself, to everyone, that humanity was not lost!

She'd made her way to the kitchen when a poison dart lodged itself in the wall in front of her face. She flinched and grabbed the closest thing to a shield she could find, the lid off one of the garbage cans. There was only one other way out of the kitchen which a group of ninjas had just entered, approaching her slowly. More appeared by the door she'd just come through.

Ra's made his way to the front holding out his hands to supplicate her, "You cannot run from us, Barbara. Join me, dear one. We will make the world better, you and I."

He had a point. She couldn't outrun them. Barbara knew she wasn't getting out of here by running out the front door. She was being backed away to the wall as they approached her slowly. She was holding up the garbage lid like a shield. She had nowhere to go. Ra's would claim her, and break her into a pliant mold. She had nowhere else to go, no one to run to. She was alone.

Just as Ra's thought his victory over her near, Barbara turned rather unexpectedly and began running for the window. Ra's realized her intentions to late, and his eyes widened as he shouted in Chinese. Several of the men with the dart pipes started loosing their ammo towards the girl.

Barbara caught one dart in the arm, and one in the neck, however, so fueled by adrenaline and a higher need was she that she never broke a single step. She held the shield in front of her to shatter the glass as she dove out the window.

"Barbara!" Ra's cried out in horror, his voice actually sounded concerned for her. He did not want her dead. He had not planned on killing her either. If she would not join him on his own, he had plans of breaking her. She was too much like Sora, looks and spirit, that he knew he could never bring himself to kill her. Not personally anyway.

Ra's ran to the window and looked out. He had expected to see blood, a body writhing in pain two stories below. He did not expect, however, the sight which greeted him. There was nothing. No body. No blood. Nothing. Just snow as far as he could see. Had the wind decided to keep her as its own? Had the heavens taken their angel back? He didn't know. She was just... Gone.

Ra's would spend weeks with his men, combing the mansion, grounds and gardens, as well as the outlying fields and mountainside, but no trace of the girl would ever be found. A change of plan was clearly in order. Little did he know that a new opportunity would present itself in several years to come.

_**...'Til next time...**_

_**Thanks for reading! Hope you like so far!**_

_**A/N: Please bear with me these first few chapters, as they will focus more on Barbara's history, before we build up to actual Batman Begins and Dark Knight timeline! kthx!**_

_**Cheers!**** =^.^=**__)_  



	5. The Espérance

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, or Christian Bale, or anything related to either them or DC comics! I am not making any money off of this! It's merely for my own entertainment, and hopefully to entertain others in the process! Thank you!_**

...||Date: Unknown. Place: Unknown||...

The entire world was black, and she hurt almost everywhere. She couldn't quite seem to pull herself back to consciousness, nor did she think she wanted to if the pain she could feel lingering at the back of her head was any indication. She just seemed to hover there, between dead and awake. Then the voices had entered her psyche. From the recesses of her mind she heard them. Several different kinds of voices, that sounded as if they were speaking from a million miles away.

"We can't take her with us, Renald! The consulate would never allow it," a woman with a British accent spoke softly, practically in a whisper.

"Consulate be damned, then!" A man responded, outrage in his voice. "We cannot just leave her, Minnie! She is definitely not a native, and she cannot be older than fifteen! Lord knows what would happen to her, or how she ended up in this barbaric wasteland!" His accent was closer to Barbara's own. A Frenchman, then? Someone from her mother country? Fate must be smiling upon her, finally.

"These people are not Barbaric, Renald. They just need help! What we, in fact, came here to give them!" The woman answered back.

"I know, ma chère. I know! But... what kind of missionaries would we be if we turned away one of our very own in need of help? She could have been kidnapped and sold to slavers for all we know!"

"Oh Renald, do come on!"

"I am serious, Minnie!" His tone grew soft, serious, pleading, "I shutter to think what happened to her that day we found her, and even before then!" A very large, very warm hand gently stroked along Barbara's cheek. "If the dogs had not found her..."

After a moment the hand was gone and he wasn't speaking down to her anymore, but to the other woman, "She wears the image of Barbara the Saint, Minnie. The proverb on the back asks for trust. You've seen it!"

"I have..."

"Surely, do you not think this may be some sign from God? That perhaps we have been tasked to watch out for this girl?"

Another hand touched her face, only this one was dainty, the skin as soft as rose petals, and smelling just as sweet, "The thought has crossed my mind." The woman paused, then sniffled, before continuing, "She looks so much like... Adeline was around her age when... when she..." Her voice grew shaky and a droplet of water splashed onto Barbara's hand. The woman's hand was gone then and Barbara could hear the quiet sobs, muffled as she cried into the man's shirt. Why couldn't she say anything to them? Why was she stuck in this lucid state of limbo?

It was his turn to speak again, though his voice was reverent, barely above a whisper, and Barbara could barely make it out, "I do not know what life this girl has lead, or what fate has brought her to, nor why it was we who found her. What I do know, Mignonette, mon coeur... Is that we cannot leave this angel to the wolves. Mother Mary would never forgive us!"

Nothing more was said after that, though Barbara could still sense them in the room. Slowly she felt the blackness overtaking her once more, and she was far too tired and weak to fight it.

_**...||A, thus, unknown amount of time later.||...**_

Time had passed much the same. She had several periods of gray where she could make out voices, faces that were just shadows in the dark. Sometimes they spoke in French, sometimes English, and even Chinese. Apart from that first conversation, she only ever caught a sentence or two, mid-conversation so she never really understood anything that was being said.

She was also aware, that at some point in time, she had been moved. For the sun no longer shined in from her left side, but from her right. It also appeared that she was suffering from heavy bouts of nausea for she constantly felt like she was being tossed or rocked back and forth.

There came one morning where the feeling of nausea was so thick that she found herself stirring, needing to wake, lest she vomit all over herself. She groaned louder than intended and turned her head, causing pain to lance up her spine, which made her groan again.

Suddenly someone was there beside her, their weight on the bed causing her to lean to one side. A small, but calloused hand stroked her face, and a woman spoke with a Cockney English accent, "Easy there now, girly! Don't go fussin' too much!" The mattress rose as the woman stood back up, making nausea wash all over her again. The shouting the woman started didn't help either, "Master Renald!... Mistress! She's waking! Come quick!"

The woman was at her side again, leaning over her instead of sitting, thank God. She felt sick enough. She was dabbing a cool rag to Barbara's forehead. "It's alright now, miss! The master's been takin' right good care o' you! Don' you mind your pretty little head! You just relax!"

Barbara dared peek open her eyes just as she saw another man and woman enter the room. They were both finely dressed, though in more casual attire. The man was tall with kind brown eyes, and dirty blonde hair. A set of spectacles rested on his bulbous nose, and he had a newspaper in one hand, a pipe in the other. The woman was beautiful, but carried an air of superiority and sadness about her. Her chestnut colored hair was pulled back in a loose French tuck, with tendrils curled about her face, giving her a dreamy sort of look. But it was her eyes that grabbed you, the most beautiful set of deep cerulean blue eyes Barbara had ever seen. She found herself smiling, though it was more in her head, as she was still too tired to exercise enough strength to make the muscles in her mouth move.

The mustachioed man was the first to approach her. He smiled warmly down at her and ever so gently sat himself upon the edge of her bed, trying to not rock her too much. "Alas, sleeping beauty awakes?" He was speaking in English, instead of French, his accent thick. He did not want to assume that because her medallion had a French inscription, that she could speak it. "You were really beginning to frighten us..." He smiled brightly down at her and she found that when he smiled like that, a genuine, "so-happy-to-see-you" smile, all of her insides melted, and some of the pain slipped away. She smiled back, which only made his smile widen. He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead, "How are you feeling, ma chérie? Do you need anything?"

Barbara smacked and licked her lips, then cleared her throat, "Le-" she cleared her throat again, God it felt like she hadn't spoken in weeks, which she wouldn't be surprised if that were not the case. She tried again, "L'eau?" She cleared her throat again, "S'il vous plaît?" Her mind was too tired to speak in any language but her native one.

He smiled again and silently indicated the younger woman from earlier, who returned shortly with a glass of water, and a straw. When Barbara went to grab for the glass she found she couldn't move her arm. Then she tried to sit up, but the pain was too much. "Facile, facile!" The man gently settled her movements, then lowered the cup to her, pressing the straw between her lips. She obligingly took several long drinks, "Not too much now, or you will make yourself sick." He slowly took the cup away.

Barbara's mouth opened as if to speak, but the woman who'd come in with Him, spoke finally, "We know you must be tired, my dear, so we will not keep your attention much longer." She subtly pulled on the cuff of the man's sleeve, hinting they should be going soon. She turned back to the girl, smiling, "I am only too happy to see you finally coming around, dear! We were really beginning to worry if you would ever wake!"

"You were in pretty awful shape, miss, 'f I do say so meself! We was all beginnin' ta wonder!" That statement came from the other woman, whom Barbara assumed might be a servant, judging by her dress and manner. Then, judging by how terrible Barbara felt, she had no doubts that she truly had been in "awful shape."

Barbara licked her lips again and attempted to sit up some, the older man was right there to help her. "Here, don't stress yourself so much, please. Let us help you, that's what we're here for." He fluffed her pillow behind her back and readjusted the one propping up her arms and leg. "Do you need anything? More water, perhaps? Another pillow?" A subtle shake of her head was her only response, the action making her brow furrow together from the slight pain the movement caused.

The gentleman disappeared for a moment before returning by her bedside. There was an IV bag on a post next to her bed and he produced a syringe of liquid which he shot into the IV line. Her eyes widened, "A little morphine for the pain." He responded gently to her unasked question. "You should see pink elephants and purple bunnies in no time." He chuckled, making her smile again.

He sat down next to the bed and once more his hand rubbed her cheek, she recognized that hand from her dream. The comfort it gave her, she couldn't stop herself rubbing her cheek into his palm slightly. He smiled softly, "I am Renald Leclair. This is my lovely wife, Mignonette." At that he took his wife's hand and kissed the back of it, smiling up at her, before addressing the other girl, "And the young lady who will be your attending is-"

"Marjory Pennyworth!" She cut him off and curtsied, "At your service, miss!"

Another smile, but she was feeling delirious, and sleep was pulling at her consciousness, yet again. The man's hand stroked her cheek once more, "We will talk more when you are feeling more up to it! Sleep now! Nothing will harm you on this boat. The Espérance is the safest place you could be!." Boat, eh? Well that explained why she felt sea-sick.

She had already begun drifting when Marjory drew the blinds over the window, and Renald and Mignonette left the room. She felt truly at peace for once, though that could very well be the morphine talking. Needless to say her dreams that night were nothing of fear or fire.

_**-------------------**_

She awoke the next day with the sun shining in on her cheek, warming her softly. She welcomed its warm rays as it lulled her into awareness. Slowly she opened her eyes, squinting slightly as she turned her head towards the window where she saw, in the great distance, a set of mountains on the horizon. She smiled. Then, when she tried adjusting herself to a more sitting position, she found it easier said than of her arms was casted, and out of commission, and the other was sore and bruised, her wrist in a brace. After many grunts and groans, and several long minutes later, she'd managed to sit up some.

She took this time to fully assess her damage. Firstly, her neck was in a brace, which would account for some of the difficulty in which she had sitting up and turning her head. Then there was her left arm which was in a hard cast from her fingers clear up to her shoulder. There was a tenderness in her upper stomach that led her to believe she probably had a couple broken ribs, which would explain the cloth bandage wrapped tightly around her middle. Moving down her body; her right hip was heavily packed with ice packs, and her entire right leg was in a cast and splint, propped high on several pillows. Her left ankle was wrapped with an ace bandage, not broken but severely sprained. She felt tender and sore literally everywhere. Bruises and welts littered her normally unblemished skin. She could feel herself on the mend, but she was still in terrible shape. What in the blazes had happened to her?

Then, as if in answer to her mental question, everything came rushing back. The dream, the fight with the League, her dive out the third story window. She had no clue what possessed her to do so, only that her instincts had screamed at her to jump, so she did. She remembered falling to the snow banks below the mansion, dislocating her shoulder on impact. As she could recall, it was a very steep bank on the North side of the mansion. Followed by a rather long and rocky slope to the village trail nearly 150 feet below the mountainside. She remembered hitting the snow, then falling/rolling several meters. The poison of ninjas works quickly, however, and she could not remember anything else after that until waking here. Judging by how extensive her injuries were, perhaps it was a fortunate blessing she had not been awake for the ride. Then, yet another blessing that these people had found her.

The door to her room opened and the young woman she'd met earlier, Marjory she thinks her name was, came in carrying a tray of covered dishes. When she noticed Barbara she smiled, "Oh good! You're awake! I was fearing I might have to rouse you myself! Didn't want to be rude like, but ya need ta eat, miss!" Her smile was quirky. Obnoxious, but genuine. Contagious is a word that could properly describe Marjory's cheery disposition.

Marjory laid the tray on the table by the door and went about fluffing and adjusting Barbara's pillows and sheets. She then removed the ice pack from Barbara's hip. She lifted up the sheet and then the skirt of Barbara's gown and gently examined Barbara's side.

"Still mighty swollen. Bruising ain't gone away none, either. Hrm," she covered Barbara's hip back up, and put the sheet back before draping a brand new ice pack over Barbara's hip. Marjory smiled and turned to grab the tray which had short fold-out legs and Marjory set it over Barbara's lap. She then shook out the napkin, and draped it over Barbara's chest.

"Merci," Barbara thanked her.

Marjory grinned, "It's my pleasure ta serve you, miss." Marjory then removed the covers over the dishes and the smell of breakfast consumed Barbara's senses, and her stomach growled in response. How long had it been since she'd eaten anything solid?

She took in the tray in front of her. There was a glass of orange juice, along with a glass of milk, half of a Belgian waffle with strawberries and whipped cream, a buttered English muffin on the side of two fried eggs and three slices of perfectly crisp bacon, and half of a grapefruit. Even for her it seemed like a lot of food! But right now she felt near ravenous and it all looked so scrumptious. With her good arm, though not her strong one, Barbara picked up the fork a bit awkwardly. She was naturally left handed, and though she was more ambidextrous than some, she was still weak in her right hand.

Marjory worried her bottom lip, "Forgive me if it's too much! I just figured you'd be real 'ungry what with having been unconscious for nearly a whole month, and all."

With that information Barbara nearly choked on the bite of egg she'd just put in her mouth. She reached for the orange juice and took a slow drink to clear the passageway. A month? Marjory nodded her head, and Barbara realized then that she'd said that last part out loud. She continued, "Are you serious, mademoiselle? I have been out for a whole month?" Another nod from Marjory. "Foutre..." Barbara winced after she said it, and worried on her bottom lip. "Pardonner moi, madame."

Marjory smirked, "'Tis quite alright, miss. I'm not the Doctor, nor the Missus. Though if they were here I'm sure they'd give you a right scolding, they would! About how," Marjory cleared her throat before changing her voice, taking on a bit of a French cadence and lowering her tone to sound like a man, "It is not proper for a young lady to use such language!" Both girls broke out into a fit of giggles, which made Barbara's abdomen ache some, but only a little. Marjory giggled herself, happy she could make the girl laugh. She then half sat, half laid on the bed next to Barbara. "Beggin' your pardon miss. But I am ever so curious to know what to call you?"

Barbara lightly thumped herself on the forehead, "Sacrebleu! Forgive me, 'ow stupid of me! I have forgotten my manners!" Barbara set down her fork and extended her right hand, "I am Ba-" She cut herself off and her brow furrowed some. She wasn't sure if she should give them her real name or not.

"What's the matter? Do you not remember?" Marjory's eyes widened, "Oh no! Poor thing, do you have amnesia?"

Barbara shook her head. "Non, non, non! I remember... Forgive me it was just foggy there for a moment," she smiled, shaking her head as if clearing away said fog. Really though, she was just trying to buy more time. "Of course I know my name!" She continued, then cleared her throat. Let's try this one more time shall we. Here goes nothing. She extended her hand towards Marjory a second time, "Babette Gable." She shrugged mentally. It was the only thing that came to her on such short notice. Babette just being another variant of her name, and Clark Gable being one of her favorite actors of all time... So there she had it!

Marjory grinned before taking Babette's hand and shaking it firmly. Now that's how you give a handshake. "Well it's a right pleasure making your acquaintance, miss. And just in case you've forgotten, my name's Marjory. But please, call me Maggie. Only my brother still calls me by my given name, the silly sod! Beggin your pardon!" She grinned.

There was a knock on the open door, and both girls turned their heads. Mr. Leclair stood in the doorway, holding a steaming mug of tea in his hands, looking upon the scene with a raised brow. Marjory stood quickly smoothing out her skirt, making Babette's bed rock from the quick loss of weight. Maggie's demeanor immediately changed, she was now strictly business like, as if she'd just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Good morning, Master Renald. I wasn't expecting you and the Missus awake for some time yet? But, I have breakfast already started, sir. Will you be taking it in the lounge as usual?"

He had looked sternly upon her at first, his eyes peering over the rim of his glasses. He looked like he would reprimand her, but the small smirk what turned up on both their mouths, broke the tension almost immediately. Marjory giggled, and Renald chuckled softly. "Thank you, Maggie. But perhaps I should like to join our rousing young guest this morning? That is, if she will suffer my company?" He looked over at Babette and winked. She smiled and nodded.

Maggie curtsied, "Very well, sir." She curtsied again, before making for the door.

Just as she left, Renald lightly touched her arm and whispered, "Madame Leclair is still sleeping, Maggie. She was _very tired_ this morning," he stressed the "very tired" part as if it had some hidden meaning.

Maggie's face darkened some with worry, and she nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll bring her something a little later then, shall I?"

Renald nodded, and Maggie left them. He then turned back around to face the bed and he smiled. "So... I see Maggie has taken to you already! Better watch out or next thing you know she'll be in your lap eating half of your breakfast for you!" They both chuckled. He approached her bed and gingerly sat/leaned next to her, with his hands crossed in his lap, "How are you feeling this morning, ma chérie?"

She smiled, "I can feel the hurt in many places, monsieur, but I am very glad to be out of the darkness."

He nodded at that, "Just as I am glad to see you free of it. Perhaps, when we have arrived in Montpelier in several days time, you can tell me more about what happened?" She bit her lip, eyes widening. Then she lowered her head, and nodded softly. "But until then, mademoiselle," his smile lifted her spirits, "I want nothing more than for you to rest, and continue getting well. We can talk more of the past, when you are better! But for now I only wish to know one thing..."

She raised her head, "Hmm? Very well, monsieur?"

"What does one call such loveliness as you? I would venture a guess such as Dahlia, or Rose, but alas those are already taken by other of God's beautiful creations!" He was charming and delightful, making her smile.

She knew another man whose charm had ensnared her. However, as one man's charm had been used to delude and deceive her, and carried with it a hint of evil and condescension, this man's charm was genuine, and simply part of his personality. Babette could see clearly into Renald's heart and there was no malice there. Nothing about this man said wrong, or evil. All of her instincts were telling her she could trust him. She had learned the hard way, that ignoring her instincts could be bad, and it was something she would try very hard to never do again.

"Je m'appelle, Babette." The more she said it the more she liked it. Barbara had never seem to fit her properly... But Babette just seemed to roll off the tongue for her. It fit. "Babette Gable."

"Oh-ho... You could be a movie star with such a name! With the looks to match, non?" He winked at her, making her giggle. "If you don't remember, I am Renald-"

"Leclair!" She finished for him, and blushed, "I remember, Monsieur Leclair. I could never forget even if I wanted to. You have saved my life, monsieur. I do not know how I can ever repay you for your kindness!"

"The only payment I require is to see that lovely smile of yours, ma chérie. Then, when you are out of this bed, and well, that shall be the only satisfaction I require." He paused, then remembered something, "Oh and please, no more of this, Monsieur Leclair business. I am simply Renald, or Remy, if you wish!" His smile was bright, and genuine. Most men would not be able to pull off a nose such as his and still look handsome, but on him it was distinguishing. Once again, his smile made her heart melt, and more of the pain seemed to slip away.

She smiled back, the grin brightening her features. "I like Remy?" She posed it as a question, asking subtly if it was alright for her to call him that. At his nod and soft chuckle, her grin widened and she dug into her breakfast once again.

A few moments passed before Maggie reappeared in the room with another tray, which she set on the desk for Renald. Renald took a seat in the chair by the desk and unfolded his napkin, which he placed over his right thigh. Maggie took up a spot at the foot of Babette's bed and the three of them settled into a lively conversation over breakfast. Babette had already started feeling an attachment to these people, and this place. Being around them she had never felt so at home in her entire life, and she'd only been awake the better part of an hour.

When they finished their respective breakfasts, Maggie had disappeared with their trays only to return with another one, but this one carried only a pitcher of lemonade and some glasses. She set the tray on the desk and walked over to the far wall with the window.

Renald looked at her quizzically, "Maggie, what are you up to?"

The maid unhinged a few latches, which made rusty squelching noises as she did so, and there was a loud suctioning sound before, almost like magic, Maggie pushed the wall away. "I just figure, the poor dear's been cooped up in this den for over a week, now, and the hospital several weeks before that. 'Bout time we get some sea air into her lungs, I'd say!"

Babette was mesmerized as she watched the accordion style wall move along a track, turning her small room into a veranda of sorts. Maggie moved to the tray, filling a glass with the slightly pink tinted liquid. She then moved to Babette's side, sitting on the foot of her bed, where she handed Babette a glass of lemonade. "There ya go, dearie!"

The three of them spent the better part of the morning, into the afternoon, sitting in Babette's room, talking, and joking. Telling stories. Well, they mostly did the telling, Babette preferred to remain quiet, choosing to listen, and occasionally laugh along rather than go into the sordid details of her past. She feared her life events would only put a large damper on what was turning out to be such a beautiful day. The best one she'd had in a long while, despite the injuries.

Apparently, Marjory has been serving the Leclair family for some time. The two adults were more like friends, or brother and sister, than Employee and Employer. Though you could always feel the barrier there. They were friends, yes, but the hard truth is that Marjory was still one of his servants.

It wasn't until around noon, that Marjory excused herself to attend to her other duties. The conversation was definitely no longer so obnoxious and loud, but it was still pleasant and natural. Nothing forced. It was comfortable. When Babette started yawning, with her head drifting, Renald took that as his cue to say his goodbyes. She was still a very sick girl, and today had been thus far a busy day for her. She still needed much rest.

Without even realizing what he was doing, letting intuition guide him, Renald leaned over her, brushed her hair back from her forehead and laid a soft kiss on her brow. "Get some more rest, ma chérie. There will be plenty more time for talking to come." With that he walked over, pulled the wall back along its track and latched it closed with an air-tight seal. He then turned and left. Babette drifted to sleep with a smile on her face. For the second night in a row, she knew fire and nightmares would have no place in her dreams, because for the first time in years, she felt the beginning of peace touch her soul.

He thought it amazing how well and how quickly the girl had opened up. To Maggie, to him. What was even more intriguing was how much he found himself endeared to her so much already. Whatever her past, he was positive she would reveal to him in time, and no matter what had happened he just knew it would only deepen his care for her in his heart. The girl was special. A beautiful soul, coloured and shadowed by an obviously tormented life. But even now, he could see the shadows lifting from her eyes, and her soul. Even in the very short time she'd been in their life, he knew he could never just let her go. She needed a family, loved ones to look after her. People she could trust to be there for her.

Renald even found himself thinking that perhaps maybe, just maybe the girl was a gift. God's way of letting Mignonette and him know that they had not lost so much, needlessly. That perhaps they were meant to lose Adeline, to prepare them for the coming of Babette? He could not be certain of anything but the fatherly affection he felt for the young girl whom he barely knew. Renald was no fool, however. He knew there was a possibility the child had family who she'd been taken from. Babette could very well have a family who loved and missed her. Who knows how she had ended up on that mountain in such a state?

He didn't know, but Renald would vow, here and now, that he would never let such harm come to her again. He had already entrusted himself to look out for what was best for her. if that meant that he would need to help her find her family again, and eventually return her to them, he would. As much as he did not want to, as much as he'd grown attached to her in the short time they'd had, he would never keep her from her family... If she had one. She hadn't mentioned anything about them, which led him to believe either she didn't remember them, didn't have any, or the very pessimistic side of him had even briefly pondered on the unbelievable scenario; what if her family were the ones who had done this to her? But he immediately shook off that train of thought.

He had much to think on, and even more to discuss with his wife. He would tell her of his thoughts, impressions and feelings about Babette. They would all spend this time in travel to get to know one another. Hopefully when she felt better, she would tell him the events leading up to her injuries, and he would help her find a home. Then maybe, just maybe, someday down the road, if she had no one to return to, he would ask if Babette wanted to be a part of their family. But that was all thought for the future. For now, he needed to check on his greatest love to see if she was feeling any better.

_****__**(A/N: Well another chappie down! Many more to go! Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it! Again, any and all feedback is appreciated! Thanks! Cheers!**_** =^.^=**_**)**_

||French Translations||

ma chérie - my dear; love (i.e. Wait here, love! Wait here, my dear!)  
ma chère - my dear; beloved. Formal term.  
mon coeur - my heart  
L'eau - Water  
S'il vous plait - Please (formal)  
Facile - Easy (Easy does it)  
Merci - Thank you!  
Foutre - Fuck!  
Pardonner moi - Forgive me!  
Sacrebleu - My God! or Holy Crap  
Je m'appelle - I am; I'm (I'm Babbette)  
Madame - Ma'am, or Madam (married; older woman)  
Mademoiselle - Miss or Maiden (unmarried; young girl)  
Monsieur - Sir or Mister


	6. Bristol Institute of Private Education

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, or Christian Bale, or anything related to either them or DC comics! I am not making any money off of this! It's merely for my own entertainment, and hopefully to entertain others in the process! Thank you!_**

_(mini a/n: Psssst! When finished, please take a second to read the A/N at the bottom regarding a "Reader Polling" question! kthx!)_**_  
_**

_**...|| January 23, 1985. Just outside Gotham Colosseum, Gotham City, Gotham ||...**_

_"What's wrong, Bruce?"_

_"No, no it was me!" Bruce's father responded to his wife's question. "I needed some air."_

"Wallets, jewelry. Come on, fast!"

_Thomas Wayne froze mid-step, the laughter falling immediately from his features when he was suddenly faced with an undoubtedly loaded gun. Slowly, he moved further in front of his wife and son, a subconscious effort to shield his family from the danger now confronting them. "That's fine," Thomas attempted to console the burglar as he slowly reached for his checkbook inside his jacket pocket._

_"Fast!"_

_"Take it easy," Thomas replied. "Here you go." Barely had Thomas pulled the wallet from his coat did the mugger wrench it from his grip. Thomas brought his arms up in gentle supplication. Bruce's father's voice was steady, calm and soothing as he spoke to the dangerous mugger. His exterior cool and collected, showing great courage in a fearful situation. Martha on the other hand, was panicking behind him, gripping onto Thomas' jacket with a near death grip, keeping Bruce huddled against her side. Thomas tried to calm his wife, "It's fine... It's fine. Now just take it and go." He directed that last part towards the mugger._

_"I said jewelry!" The man viciously grabbed for Martha's brand new pearl necklace and Thomas shouted before jumping in the way. There was screaming and a brief struggle before several shots rang out through the theatre alley._

_Bruce flinched violently as the images flashed in his mind. He was now kneeling on the ground, staring down at his father's wide eyes, "It's alright Bruce." He said in a calm voice, betraying the situation which was far from calm. "Don't be afraid."_

_Those words started echoing in his mind as Bruce's world began to spin out of control._

"Don't be afraid..."_ Faster and faster the images collided together, spinning and swirling, making him feel sick. _"Don't be afraid..."_ There was a flash, and the world suddenly stopped as Bruce found himself encompassed by total darkness. _"Don't..."_ The phrase paused before finishing on an ominous note, _**"Be afraid..."**

_As if on cue, a horde of flying black creatures came swarming from the darkness, all glowing red eyes and screeching sirens._

_**...|| May 5, 1990 Wayne Manor, Gotham City ||...**_

Bruce awoke with a start, panting heavily. His now broken alarm clock went scattering to the floor. Bruce swiped at his sweat and tear stained face with the sleeve of his night shirt. He then swallowed hard before checking himself and his surroundings just to make sure he was really awake.

Nightmares like that always left him feeling small, stupid and insignificant. It had been almost six years since his parents' murders, and longer since the incident with the bats, yet here he was; still scared like some silly child.

He couldn't brood about any of it for that long however, as there was a sudden rap on his bedroom door. "Come in, Alfred," he spoke.

After opening the door wide, Alfred stepped in. "Ah good, you're awake then. Breakfast is prepared and waiting for you downstairs, Master Bruce. The young Miss Dawes has also stopped in this morning and I took the liberty of inviting her to join you."

Bruce didn't say anything, he just nodded and threw the sheets away and swung his feet over the side of the bed before stepping over to his closet. His features were down trodden, and Alfred noticed the sweat staining his shirt around the neck, down his back and arms.

"Is everything alright, Master Bruce?" Alfred inquired worriedly.

"I'm fine, Alfred." Bruce's tone was curt and abrupt, leaving no room for further inquiry. "Tell Rachel, I'll be down in a minute."

Alfred nodded, "Very well, Master Bruce." The faithful butler disappeared behind the door, trying his hardest not to be hurt by Bruce's tone. Alfred hated seeing his charge suffer, but clearly he did not wish to speak about whatever was bothering him. Though Alfred had a pretty good idea what it could be about, he would not press Bruce on the issue.

Back downstairs Alfred served up a plate of pancakes, eggs and sausage for the young and leggy brunette sitting at the kitchen bar.

"Thanks Alfred," Rachel chimed up with a smile just as cheerful as her voice.

Alfred smiled back, though it didn't quite reach his eyes that still showed worry for his young charge, "My pleasure, Miss Rachel." He then turned and began serving up a similar, but slightly fuller plate for Bruce.

"Hey, Bruce! G'morning!" Rachel piped in around a mouthful of buttermilk pancake

"Hey Rach," Bruce responded though nowhere near as happy sounding as his best friend. Bruce was never really one for mornings these past years, especially not after a night like he'd just had.

"Are you ready for finals week?" Rachel asked as Bruce hoisted himself into a chair. Alfred set the plate down on the counter in front of him.

Bruce just shrugged and made a non-committal grunt. He then fervently dug into his breakfast, not leaving much more room for conversation.

It never failed. Bruce always felt starved after a bad nightmare, and judging by the larger portions Alfred had served him without his asking, that meant the old man just might know what had Bruce upset. He mentally thanked his guardian for that. Alfred definitely seemed to understand Bruce better than he did himself sometimes.

As Bruce took another shovel of eggs into his mouth, making Rachel giggle at him, the phone started to ring. Alfred threw the bar-towel over his shoulder and set down the spatula he'd been using to flip a couple more pancakes. He moved the pan off the stove and turned the burner off. Alfred stepped over to the kitchen phone and used the towel on his shoulder to wipe his hands before answering it.

"Wayne Residence," he answered. The person on the other side responded and a smile spread on Alfred's face. "Good morning, Doctor Leclair. What a pleasant surprise." There was another pause on Alfred's end. "I hope everything finds you well. Let me guess, Marjory's finally broken your nerves and you're asking me to come and collect her, eh?" Alfred joked, then broke out into a grin at something the caller said.

There was another long pause before Alfred spoke again, "Well, yes, of course, sir. Allow me just a moment." Alfred pushed a button on the phone base then placed it back in it's cradle. He then turned to the two teens sitting at the bar top. "If you will excuse me Master Wayne, Miss Rachel. If you do not require anything further, I should like to take this in the study."

"Sure, Alfred. We'll be fine," Bruce responded off-handily.

Each of them nodded towards the other before Alfred set the towel down by the stove and disappeared from the kitchen towards the direction of the private study.

Bruce listened for the soft muttering sounds which would indicate Alfred had continued his phone call, before turning to Rachel, "What do you think that's all about?"

Rachel just shrugged her shoulders, "Sounded like it might be an old friend or something?"

"Yeah it did sound that way, didn't it." It was a rhetorical question. Bruce paused, thinking. "So they could be talking for quite a while then?"

Another shrug from Rachel, "Yeah I suppose so." Then she noticed the scheming, mischievous look on Bruce's face and she narrowed her eyes calculatingly, "What are you up to, Bruce?"

Bruce's grin only widened as he stepped down from the bar chair and indicated for Rachel to follow him. "I think I saw which shelf Alfred hid it on this time." Rachel's eyes widened as the realization to what exactly Bruce was referring to dawned on her. A giggle escaped her as she followed Bruce towards the large walk-in pantry.

One detailed phone call and fifteen minutes later, Alfred entered the kitchen to a couple giggling teens who seemed far more suspicious looking than normal. "What have you two been up to?"

Both of the teens shared a knowing look where Rachel giggled, while Bruce bit back his own chuckle, "Nothing, Alfred. Honest."

Alfred narrowed his eyes at both teens, but only shook his head. He didn't rightly care what they were up to, as long as they stayed out of trouble. Besides, whatever hijinx they had performed, it had brought a smile to Bruce's face, and Alfred couldn't complain about that. In fact he hoped Bruce's mood only improved throughout the day because the faithful butler had a feeling the young master may not be so keen about the news Alfred just received. But deep down, he knew that what his old friend had requested just might do some good for Bruce and all parties involved.

Alfred went about collecting their dishes and cleaning up after breakfast. "Oh dear me, look at the hour!" Alfred cried. "You both best hurry if I'm to get you to school on time! Run along and change into your uniforms!" Both children groaned. "Quickly, now!" Alfred ignored their groans of protest as he hurriedly shooed them away.

After tidying up the kitchen from breakfast, Alfred met them both at the large front door with their school bags waiting. "Hurry along now you two! No more dilly-dallying!" He called down as they both made their way down the stairs. A turtle would win in a race against them at this point.

They donned similar uniforms; navy blue blazers with the school emblem on the pocket and blue and black plaid neck-ties with matching sweater vests. The only major difference was Rachel wore a skirt that matched the vest, where as Bruce wore black slacks. It had been Thomas and Martha's idea to help fund Rachel's private education, and Alfred had seen to it their wishes had been carried out. It was also very fortunate for Bruce's sake that his best friend attended the same school as he did.

Alfred held the door for them as he ushered them both to the parked Rolls waiting by the curb. After locking the door behind them, Alfred hurried to reach the car before them where he once again held the car door open for the children to climb in. Securing his driving hat firmly on his head, Alfred moved around to slide into the driver's seat where he buckled his belt before starting the car. Slowly the rolls departed down the long gravel driveway.

There were several moments of passing silence where Mozart's symphony No. 40 in G minor played in the background, until Bruce spoke, "Alfred?"

"Hm? Yes Master Bruce?" Alfred replied, glancing at Bruce through the rear-view mirror.

"What was all that business on the phone this morning?" Most calls to the manor had to do with Bruce, or Wayne Enterprises or something along those lines, and Bruce was usually privy to the conversation. He remembered something about a doctor, and Alfred very rarely took private calls in the study, so it had Bruce very curious as to what it could have been about.

Alfred grinned, "That was Doctor Renald Leclair. A very old friend. Not only is my sister his personal Housemaid, but Doctor Leclair was one of your father's favorite instructors at University. They were colleagues and friends for many years." Alfred paused where he looked at Bruce in the mirror again before speaking, "You might remember the Leclairs, Master Bruce. Your parents brought you to their daughter Adeline's funeral in Marseilles when you were a very small boy."

Bruce shrugged his shoulders, before giving Alfred a look, "I can barely remember Marseilles, Alfred, let alone who the Leclairs are."

Alfred paused a moment trying to think how he could bring them to Bruce's mind. The only thing he could think of might be a sad and tender memory for Bruce, but it would do, "Well they were both at your parents funeral. Dr. Leclair was the gentleman with the shaggy blonde hair and large bulbous nose? I remember quite clearly him shaking your hand at the end. Do you remember what he told you?" At Bruce's shrug and unknowing stare, Alfred continued, "He said 'No matter the hardships we all face, we never forget those that truly matter. It is through our actions and the actions of others that we leave our marks on this world, and as long as you remember that, your parents and everything they stand for will never be forgotten.' "

" 'will never be forgotten.' " Bruce finished the quote at the same time as Alfred. He remembered Renald Leclair now.

"So you do remember, then?"

Bruce nodded. "Yeah, I remember." Those words from long ago had once been able to reach something deep inside him. Something both very sad, but very encouraging at the same time. However, Bruce's own bitterness, guilt and rage has overpowered everything for so long, that he had forgotten how to feel forgiveness and purpose. Scornful and vengeful were so much easier to feel than reflective and forgiving. "If he was a friend of my father's what would he be calling _you_ about?"

Bruce was gazing out the window at the landscape he'd seen hundreds of times, so he missed the reprimanding look Alfred gave him through the mirror. "Doctor Leclair had a few questions about our plans for this summer."

That made him look up, "Why? What about this summer?"

The car slowed as Alfred leisurely pulled into the school drop off, "We can discuss it later, Master Bruce." Bruce looked as though to argue. If it was some minor thing, Alfred would have told him. Which led Bruce to believe that the phone call from that morning had a lot more to do with him than he originally thought. Then to think his summer may be on the line because of it? Well, he wanted to know more and he wanted to know now. Alfred was already out of the car, however, so Bruce was momentarily unable to press the issue.

The butler stepped around to open Bruce's door and once again it looked as though he would inquire further, but Alfred simply spoke before Bruce had the chance, "It appears we have arrived just in time for the first morning bell, sir." Bruce looked out across the school ground where, sure enough, his fellow students were dashing all over the place in order to get to their classes before the tardy bell. "You best hurry," Alfred finished.

"Come on, Bruce, or we're gonna be late!" Rachel urged as she pulled at his hand. Bruce allowed her to pull him along but he kept his eyes on Alfred, trying to will him to answer his questions.

Alfred simply smiled and waved them off, "Have a good day, Master Bruce. Oh, and good luck on the Finals!"

Bruce groaned. Finals?! With all the excitement from this morning, he'd almost forgotten about them. But now they were all he could think about. He knew today was going to suck big time, and sometimes he hated being right.

When Bruce and Rachel had disappeared through the large school doors, Alfred put his hat back on and moved around the car to slide back into the driver's seat. As he drove out of the drop-off zone, he couldn't help but reflect upon the events of the morning. He wanted to explain his phone call to Bruce but that sort of information was best left to tell when there was time to explain everything correctly, and when the young master's nerves could be properly assuaged. The day had started off a bit rocky and for some reason Alfred suspected come nightfall he might be standing on a mountain.

There was no doubt in his mind that agreeing to Renald's request would be beneficial to all party's involved, Bruce and himself included. He did, however, have serious doubts that the hot-headed and at times arrogant young master would see it that way. The Butler would have to wait until this afternoon to find out. In the meantime he'd do what his mother always told him was best when faced with tense situations... Bake.

_**(A/N:** Finally something from Bruce's perspective. There will be a little more to do with Bruce in the following chapters. Hope you like!BTW Dark Knight has been playing like every night for the past week on one of the movie channels on TV so I've watched it quite a few times and it's really put me in a "Batman" mood which is why I've been writing so much for this fic! Hope ya'll enjoyt it as much as I do!  
**Reader Poll **** Now if I could**_**_ but take a second of your time, I have a question I would like to pose to everyone... A sort of poll as you will... __So here it is, *ahem* _**_**Should I have the Joker kill Rachel just like in the movie, or should I write in a way to somehow keep her alive?******  
I know I am not even close to the Dark Knight story line at this point, but I do have plot developed that far in my head. Therefore, I would like to know in advance what you, my reader's, think... For it may or _may not_influence my writing... kthx  
**As always any and all feedback is appreciated!**_**_  
Cheers! _=^.^=_ )_**


	7. Gotham International Airport

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, or Christian Bale, or anything related to either them or DC comics! I am not making any money off of this! It's merely for my own entertainment, and hopefully to entertain others in the process! Thank you!**_

**_...|| May 18, 1990 Gotham International Airport, Gotham City, Gotham ||..._**

The Captain had just come over the intercom announcing the jet was due to land in Gotham in a little over two hours. Babette was so excited she could barely stand it. They were still over ocean, but it was a better view than white clouds they'd been flying over for the past forever. Babette had been to many places in her life, but she had never been to America and here she was, on her way to Gotham, one of the largest, most well-known cities in the nation. She was more than anxious to see it.

Alright, maybe it wasn't just the prospect of seeing Gotham that made her anxious and maybe it wasn't excitement that prevented her from getting any sleep during the 14 hour long flight. Maybe, just maybe, it was the overwhelming fear of being trapped in such a small cramped space, with no possible exits that made her anxious to be anywhere but on this jet. So small that if anything were to happen there was no where else to go, no open space to run, no real air to breathe. The plane was cramped, the oxygen fake, recycled and processed. It had taken almost the entirety of the trip to calm herself down enough to be able to breathe without fear of hyperventilating. Stupid claustrophobia. It was an idiotic fear which made Babette feel childish and ridiculous.

If Maggie hadn't been here with her, she didn't know what she would do. The maid was her best friend. Always knew how to make her feel better or to make her laugh in the worst of circumstances. Babette would definitely call this a bad circumstance, which is what made Maggie's presence all the more dear to her.

"You're actin' as if you ain' never seen the ocean 'efore, love." Babette startled as Maggie plopped down into the seat next to her. She had thought the maid was still sleeping. Maggie chuckled. "Are you alright, darling? Did I give you a fright, then?"

"You did not frighten me, Maggie. Just gave me a start is all." Babette closed the curtain of the window and took a deep breath before turning to the older woman. "Did you sleep well?"

Maggie nodded, "Aye. Your father's jet has quite comfortable accommodations for overnight traveling." As if to exaggerate her point, Maggie stretched and sighed. "How about you, Miss? Did you rest any?"

Babette smiled but didn't say anything. She merely turned towards the window again and opened the curtain. She could now see land approaching in the distance, skyscrapers the works. Her anxiousness to be on solid ground almost overwhelmed her.

"You didn't sleep at all, did you?" Maggie persisted. Babette shook her head. "And why the bloody hell not?" Maggie did not swear often, so Babette clearly understood the severity of her concern. As if it was unthinkable to not have rested at all.

A soft shrug of her shoulders was Babette's only response. Maggie crossed her arms and almost glared. Babette sighed, "Do not look at me in that tone of voice, Maggie. I cannot breathe in this place. I try to shut my eyes and everything closes in around me. I can feel every bump, every hitch, every mechanical glitch. I am trapped inside this steel cage. No rest will come until I can breathe the real air again."

Maggie smiled sympathetically and placed her hand on Babette's shoulder, meant for comfort. "Sorry, love. I forget sometimes."

Babette inhaled a deep breath again and turned to Maggie where she gave her a soft smile, "It is alright. We should be landing shortly. I will be fine 'til then. Are you excited to see your brother?"

Maggie grinned, "Alfred? I 'aven't seen him in years. You could say I'm very happy to be seeing my older brother. I'm definitely looking forward to tormenting him all summer. That is what little sister's are for after all."

"But, Maggie, you are a grown woman, not some little girl..."

"So? What's that got ta do wif anythin'? You can grow older and wiser, but once you become a little sister you'll always be a little sister."

Babette giggled at the older woman. "I suppose you have a point, ma ami."

"Besides," Maggie continued, sounding proud of herself. "What kind of sister would I be able to call myself if I didn't torment my older brother at every chance I got? I don't get too many of 'em, ya know?"

Babette chuckled again before she leaned over to share a hug with her best friend. "Thank you for coming with me, Maggie. I do not know what I would do for the summer without you."

Maggie pulled back, "Ah, nonsense that. Even without me, there'd still be Alfred. And of course, don't forget young Master Wayne."

Forget? How could she possibly forget? Even as far away as France, Bruce Wayne "the young Prince of Gotham" was a known celebrity. And here she was, about to be spending the entire summer at his mansion in Gotham City.

Babette might have made a couple tabloids when she was first adopted into a known and wealthy French family, and her history and future might have come into sharp retrospect and even controversy, but that wasn't who she was. Babette had the humblest of upbringings. The whole wealth and fame thing was entirely new to her. Even after a year she still felt awkward in it. The only reason she attended most of the galas, balls or events that she was invited to was because it seemed to make her mother so happy.

The Leclairs had lost their biological daughter in a car accident some long years ago. They had called Babette's near-fatal accident a blessing in disguise, for it had led her to them. To a family that would love and accept everything about her. Babette had told Remy her entire life's story, from St. Barbara's Abbey to running away and ending up on a boat bound for Beijing and everything in-between. Even after everything she'd been through, Babette expected him to cast her out, to drop her off at some public orphanage to rid them of her history, her baggage. So when Remy Leclair had shed a few tears then wrapped her up in the warmest, strongest hug she'd ever received, Babette cried like she had never cried before. She wept in sorrow for her lost childhood; in joy for a hopeful future. He accepted her; had looked at her with nothing but caring and love in his eyes.

Babette had knowingly omitted certain details about Ra's and the League of Shadows - she had no intentions of ever revealing that part of her life to anyone - instead she'd told him a group of thugs had taken her to their hideout. This really wasn't far from the truth. She said that she'd managed to get free and jumped out a window to escape, unaware of the sharp and long drop down the mountain on the other side. Again, she technically wasn't lying, she just wasn't telling the _whole_ truth.

Mignonette had obviously missed having a daughter to dress up and parade around to society, for she had taken to Babette like Bees to honey, trying to make her the little Debutante like Minnie herself had been once upon a time. Between studying and physical therapy, Mignonette filled Babette's schedule with everything from Etiquette instruction, to Public Speaking. Then, when the physical therapy had improved her condition enough to allow Babette to walk or stand on her own for extended periods of time, Minnie had insisted on formal dance instruction, as well as posturing and even modeling.

From coming out parties, to Royal balls, to private tutoring, Equivalency tests and applying for scholarships, Babette had, had an intense year. There had never seemed to be any down time for her. Even with Minnie's attempts to make their new daughter the Belle of the Ball in their circle of society, Babette was never able to just _be a girl_. Remy had seen the toll it was taking on his lovely new daughter. She would never complain, for that was the kind of person Babette was. She always put others before herself. So, before she left for the big world, settling into a path she was adamant to see through no matter how difficult, Remy had taken it upon himself to see she got some proper rest before taking the entire world on her shoulders.

When she had argued that she wanted to use the summer to get ahead in her learning that was when Remy came up with his brilliant idea. If she wanted to spend the summer with her nose stuck in some medical research or another, what better place to do it than a city where one of his former, and favorite students, had set up a very impressive medical and research foundation. She could study, _and_ take a vacation at the same time.

Which is what led her here, traveling thousands of miles in an incredibly cramped, steel death trap, gliding miles above ground. Luckily though it was _finally_ making its descent into Gotham.

Babette was beyond anxious, and even Maggie's presence wasn't enough to calm her nerves. It wasn't just the plane this time. Realization hit Babette hard that she was about to meet a couple complete strangers and spend an entire summer in someone else's home. What if they hated her for it?

"Don't worry, darlin'. We'll be on the ground any moment now."

Babette sighed, "That's not all that worries me, Maggie." Maggie waited patiently for her to continue at her own leisure. Babette went on to explain, "It is just... We are about to invade someone else's home for an entire summer. Papa did not contact your Alfred until last week! That is barely any notice at all!" A pause where Babette sighed in frustration. "If it were me... If I were him... If it was my summer some stranger was intruding on, I know I would be upset."

"Babette, listen to me, sweetheart!" Babette turned to meet Maggie's eyes where Maggie then placed her hand comfortingly on the younger girl's shoulder. "You are positively the warmest, kindest, most lovable person I know. If anyone is upset, trust me, they won't be for long once they've gotten to meet you."

Babette sighed again before she propped her elbow on her arm rest and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. She gazed forlornly out the window as the city of Gotham loomed ever nearer. "I hope you are right, ma ami..." _I hope he likes me,_ she finished in her mind.

He hated her. He hadn't even met her yet and he already despised her. His entire summer was ruined all because some spoiled little rich-girl was overcome with some whim or fancy to spend the summer in Gotham City. No doubts she was used to daddy giving her everything she wanted. Then, just because the man was friends of his father, Bruce was the lucky bastard to have to put the little bimbo up for the season. Yeah, he was bitter and angry, but who would blame him? Spending an entire summer boarded up with some snooty French debutante, helping her choose which outfit made her hips look smallest, was not his idea of a good time, no sir.

It was all Alfred's fault, Bruce had decided. If the butler hadn't agreed without consulting him, they wouldn't be in this mess. Not to mention, if not for her, Bruce would be playing pool and having a burger with Rachel and other friend's down at "The Queue." Instead, he was stuck here in the waiting area outside Gotham International Airport, leaning against his family's limo, while Alfred stood on the curb with a sign that neatly read, "Babette Leclair." God, even her name made her sound like a bimbo.

Bruce had a clear image of Babette in his mind. She was around his height; blonde hair, stiff and plastered with product, and a Beret or some sort of designer hat which she would wear tilted on her head; wearing heels the size of Wayne Tower that she barely managed to walk in without killing herself; adorned in some designer dress or another the style of which that only made sense to other fashion designers. She would stroll through the airport like she owned the place with an attendant or two, _or four_, trailing behind her with the fifteen designer suitcases she brought with her even though it was only a simple summer trip. Undoubtedly two or more of the bags would be filled with make up and styling products, and another just for shoes.

"Alfred, what the hell have you gotten me into?" Bruce shouted across the ten yards or so that separated them.

Alfred unaware of Bruce's inner musings, turned to look back at the boy over his shoulder, a look of reprimand on his features, "I will ask you to mind your language, Master Bruce. We have already extended the invitation to Miss Leclair for the summer. It would be in terrible distaste of us to revoke it."

Bruce pushed off the limo and began stomping towards his Guardian, "_We_?" he asked incredulously. "_We_ didn't extend anything! _You_ did that all on your own. Without even consulting me, might I add? Most butlers would be fired for something like that."

"I suppose it's rather well for me, then, that you don't posses the ability to release any of the staff until your eighteenth birthday." Alfred grinned then chuckled to himself, while Bruce only crossed his arms and muttered curses under his breath.

He could understand the teenager's plight, but Alfred was sure Bruce would get over it quickly. If Babette was anything like his sister described her as, then the young man was in for a definite eye-opener.

"Ah, here they come!" Alfred suddenly said, making Bruce's attention focus on the exit from the airport.

Bruce groaned as a petite blonde in a blue dress suit and matching wide brimmed hat walked in their direction. She was carrying a large over-sized purse in one arm, and a small Pekingese in the other. When she was about fifteen feet from them, the girl extended her arm and waved enthusiastically. Bruce groaned again and tried to mentally prepare himself to force pleasantries when they meet. He moved as if to greet her when she veered off unexpectedly. She avoided Bruce and Alfred entirely to make her way around the limo where she approached a sharply dressed man whom she shared a passionate embrace with.

Bruce shook his head and sighed. When he turned back around his focus caught on girl in a wheelchair who was being pushed by an airport attendant. She was talking adamantly to the woman next to her, who was pushing a trolley with two large pieces of luggage resting on it.

Once the trio breached the exit doors and passed the majority of airport pedestrians, the attendant paused and the girl took the cane the older woman offered her as she stood up slowly. The young man who'd been pushing her winked at her as he said something that made her laugh. He was obviously trying to catch her fancy, but she didn't seem interested at all when she simply handed him a few dollars tip. Bruce couldn't blame the man for trying though. The girl was definitely a pretty one. She was dressed very plainly in a simple pair of dress jeans and a green blouse. It was her eyes and hair that made her stand out so much. She had a luscious mane of the purest ebony Bruce had ever seen, which only served to accent the twin pools of cerulean blue that served as her eyes. Most women would pay hundreds to thousands of dollars to get hair like hers, but just looking, Bruce could tell it was natural to her.

Bruce should be using this time to try to spot the approaching bane of his summer, but his focus couldn't seem to stray from the young girl. She walked with a bit a limp, favoring her left leg, and she leaned heavily on a cane that she was obviously familiar to using.

As they walked, the young girl and the woman next to her talked adamantly. When something the older woman said made the girl laugh, Bruce smiled for the first time since Alfred broke the news to him about his summer. The girl's entire face lit up when she smiled and Bruce couldn't help but think to himself how much he wished he could be responsible for making her do it again.

So caught up in his speculation was he, Bruce missed when Alfred moved away from him. When the older woman traveling with the Girl caught sight of Alfred, she grinned widely and picked up her pace some to meet the butler in a fond embrace.

"It is so good to see you, Alfred," Bruce heard the woman say, and finally he shook himself from his reverie and began taking stock of the developing situation.

"It has been far too long, Marjory, my dear." The young girl smiled behind them, which then turned into a full on grin when Alfred turned his attention to her. "Aw. And this must be the young Miss Leclair we've heard so much about." Bruce looked up sharply and glanced from Alfred to the girl and back several times. This couldn't possibly be her. This girl was nothing like he had pictured.

"Marjory speaks so much about you, I feel like I know you already," Alfred finished by taking her hand and bowing over it. Bruce fought another smile when Alfred's actions made the girl blush softly.

"S'il vous plait, Monsieur Alfred... I prefer simply, Babette." She smiled.

Alfred returned her smile, "Of course, Babette, but then you must call me Alfred." Babette nodded and shared a glance with Maggie where both women giggled at a joke no one else was privy to.

"And I feel the same way, Alfred. Maggie speaks often about her older brother. I am so happy to finally meet you!" Her smile and tone were genuine.

"Alfred?" Bruce asked from behind them, confusion and incredulity clear in his tone.

"Ah, forgive me Master Bruce. It is my pleasure to introduce you to my beloved sister, Marjory Pennyworth." Maggie took Bruce's hand firmly where the young boy said a brief greeting and nodded his head with a smile. "And this," Alfred continued, taking Babette's left hand where he placed it in the crook of his elbow, "This is the young Miss Babette Leclair. Our very special, very lovely house guest for the summer." Alfred winked, making Babette chuckle.

Babette extended her hand to Bruce, "It is very nice to meet you, Bruce. I cannot express enough how grateful we are to you for welcoming us into your home. I would like to apologize for the short notice, but I fear once my father gets an idea in his head, he simply acts upon it." She smiled tentatively.

Bruce just gazed at her until Alfred nudged him in the shoulder and whispered harshly, "Master Bruce!"

Bruce shook his head of his thoughts then took her hand. "Welcome to Gotham, Babette," he said, not having to force the smile as hard as he thought he would have had to upon meeting 'Babette Leclair'. "Surely, Gotham's summer will be far brighter than usual with such beautiful radiance lighting up the city."

Babette's cheeks flushed a light crimson, "Merci. I look forward to it."

Alfred smiled to himself and exchanged a knowing glance with his sister who wore an identical grin. "I trust everything's alright then, Marjory? We expected you about fifteen minutes ago," the man inquired.

"Yes, everything's fine." Maggie spared a glance to Babette, as if asking her a question with just a look.

Babette knew what that look meant. Her handicap was a very sensitive subject for her. In fact it was because of her they had been late. Maggie nor Babette meant to worry Alfred with their tardiness, so Maggie was in essence asking if it was alright with Babette if she explained.

"I had a bit of a spill inside," Babette supplied in Maggie's place. "Which is rather remarkable considering I cleared the entire stairwell from the jet without incident." She grinned, attempting to ease her own discomfort.

"A spill?" Alfred's eyebrow raised in question. "What do you mean? What sort of spill? Do you require my handkerchief?"

Babette chuckled but shook her head. " Non, non. Not that sort of spill. I mean I, uh, collapsed."

"My word," Alfred gasped. "Will you be alright?"

"Oui, monsieur. I am perfectly fine. Nothing was injured save for my pride." She smiled. "It was rather unexpected. I thought for certain if anything of the sort would happen it would be coming down the stairs from the jet. However, it was not until we got inside the terminal that my hip, and therefore my leg just suddenly decide they do not wish to work any longer." Babette grinned, softly chuckling at herself. "The airport staff would not let us proceed until they brought me a rolling chair, hence why we were late. I am very sorry."

"Oh, no, Babette. Do not apologize. Just as long as you are sure everything is fine?" At Babette's warm smile and nod, Alfred returned the gesture before continuing, "So let us gather the rest of your luggage, then we can be on our way."

"No need, Alfred. It's all right here." Maggie indicated the luggage cart next to her.

Bruce and Alfred both eyed the two bags skeptically. Though they were both large and over-sized, definitely the kind you would normally have to Check on a commercial flight, Bruce had thought there would be at least a few more, as had Alfred apparently. So, apart from the medium sized carrier each woman possessed, the two bags were it. Yet another aspect of Babette Leclair that surprised him. And yet another thing Bruce had assumed incorrectly.

By all intents and purposes, he should have been pleased that his assumptions were wrong. However, having so strongly cast a negative image of her in his mind before he even met her, an image that was proving to be less and less accurate, this left Bruce feeling more than a little guilty. He wanted so bad to have a million reasons to not like her, but upon actually meeting her, those reasons were coming up a little short. And it all made Bruce a little angry. Even though Babette Leclair was proving him wrong, he argued to himself, she was still intruding on his summer. He had every right to hold a grudge.

"Well that's perfect then!" Alfred pushed the cart to the trunk of the limo where he lifted both bags inside, then closed it afterward. He then walked around to open the rear door for Babette. She smiled at the butler before slowly sliding inside. Alfred grinned sheepishly at Bruce as the young man slid in after her. Alfred then looked to his sister, waiting, "Well, my dear?"

Maggie smiled before leaning her head inside the door to look at the two teens, "Cozy are we?" Babette nodded, "Well, darling. I'm gonna let you two get acquainted back here, while I sit up with Alfred." At Babette's questioning stare, Maggie continued, "We haven't seen one another in some time and I'd like to spend a little time catching up before we get to the manor."

Babette nodded in understanding. Maggie smiled and closed the door before walking to the passenger door and sliding in next to an already buckled Alfred. "You sure that's wise, Marjory?"

Maggie grinned, "They'll either exit this car as better friends, or completely at each other's throats. Either way it should make for an entertaining summer." They both chuckled.

As the car pulled out of the airport terminal, there was silence in the back seat. Bruce was sitting on the seat between the doors, and Babette was seated sideways facing the side window. The time passed in silence. Awkward silence.

Babette was far too shy to say anything, especially thinking that Bruce was more than likely upset at her for being here. She found herself wishing, not for the first time since leaving her home in Marseilles that this summer would end already so she could get on with her studies. She wished even more so now that she was actually here. An entire summer imprisoned in the home of the 'Prince of Gotham,' who seemed to already hate her, was not Babette's idea of a good time.

Even without words being exchanged, Bruce was having a harder and harder time staying angry at the situation. She was obviously _not_ what he had expected. Bruce had thought Babette Leclair would be obnoxious, flashy, and a spoiled brat. Not this demure, soft-spoken butterfly sitting across from him right now. She was obviously shy. Bruce still couldn't get that image of her smiling and laughing out of her head. She hadn't smiled since they left the airport. Bruce couldn't help but feel bad about that, though he didn't know why.

She was avoiding eye contact with him, and Bruce feared that she might think his silence as a sign that he didn't want her here. Maybe that's how the day had started, and how Bruce had expected it to end, but as Alfred kept on telling him, the day might surprise you.

Bruce didn't know how to break the silence comfortably, so he went with the first thing that came to his head, "So what's with the cane?"

"Pardonnez moi?" Babette looked up and shook her head, "I mean, excuse me?"

"The cane?" Bruce pointed towards the cane resting against the seat next to her. It was not shiny like similar walking canes. In fact it seemed to absorb the light, not reflect it. It was the flat-black paint that probably caused it. "Is it really for practical use or just a show?"

Babette looked at her cane then picked it up, "I always keep it handy in case I may need it."

"Like today?" Bruce inquired before holding out his hand to the cane. Babette nodded to him before answering his unvoiced request by handing her cane to him.

Looking more closely, Bruce noticed a subtle dark green design etched into the length of the entire cane. The design was an Abalone shell inset in a vine and leaf pattern with small violet flower shapes speckling its surface. Obviously someone had taken personal care to create this for her. "'In case you may need it'? Why exactly would you need it?" He handed it back to her.

She took her cane back with an awkward smile, setting it next to her on the seat before looking back at him with a questioning gaze. "A long story short," she posed it like a question, but she continued without waiting for an answer. "I have eight pins, along with a few other artificial supports keeping my left hip intact. The pain can flare up unexpectedly, which is where the cane comes in." She shrugged as if talking about the most insignificant or normal of subjects.

Bruce frowned. What the hell could have happened to her that would require having eight pins put in her hip? "So let me guess... Clearance sale at Dolce and Gabbana, you nabbed the last handbag and a group of blood thirsty fashionistas mobbed you?"

A frown creased Babette's brow, "Non." Uh oh. One simple word and she sounded offended. "That's not how it happened at all," she finished. Bruce felt even more guilty now because of the look on her face. He had only been joking in an attempt to alleviate some of the awkwardness that had settled between them. He hadn't meant to offend her.

Before he could apologize, however, Babette continued, "There was no Dolce and Gabbana handbag involved whatsoever."

Bruce thought he had really upset her. He had to say something, and fast, "Look, I know there was no D and G bag, I was only-"

Babette held up her hand, cutting him off abruptly. Great, here would come the shouting. "The fact that you think I would possibly be interested in anything those clouts at Dolce and Gabbana would ever create is insulting. However, if you _must_ know _Mister Wayne_?" She paused, where she crossed her arms angrily over her chest before continuing, "The accident actually came about over a matter of a limited edition yellow-leather Louis Vuitton coat." Babette had the most difficult time keeping a straight face after that last part, but long sleepless nights spent playing cards with her father had taught her a thing or two about pulling off a convincing bluff. Her angry disposition never faltered.

Bruce blinked several times as his brow furrowed deeply together in confusion. "What?" Oh god. She _was_ one of those fashion obsessed debutantes after all? He was right! Oh God, please, someone kill him now!

That was it. Babette could not contain herself any longer. Quite unexpectedly she burst out laughing; the horrified and painful looks spreading over Bruce's face were simply proving too much for even her to handle. After a long, horrifying moment Bruce finally realized that Babette had turned his own joke back around onto him, and he couldn't stop himself from joining in her mirth. For a moment there, however, a part of Bruce was horrified that she was being serious. The girl was good.

When some of their giggling subsided, Babette gripped her stomach and attempted speaking, "Oh you should have seen your face, Bruce. When the words 'Louis' and 'Vuitton' passed my lips, I swear it was as if someone had just pointed a gun at your 'ead."

Bruce swiped at a tear under his eye, "I will admit you had me going there. For a moment I thought 'Holy crap, she really _is_ some stuck up, spoiled rich girl.' I almost had a heart attack."

Babette sighed, frowning slightly, "Did you really think so?"

Bruce had the smarts to look sheepish, "Honestly? Yeah. I did at first. I had this whole image of you in my head before I even met you. Big hair, fake smile, with a train of luggage you couldn't possibly need. Daughter of a big name, and big money. You know? An heiress. The type of girl who thinks the sun shines out of her butt?"

Babette giggled, "I know the type, unfortunately. I have met many of them this past year. I am forced to run in the same circles as most of them. My mother has been hoping I would follow their lead, become _le Grande Debutante_ just as she had been at my age. I disappoint her when I am not excited about attending Royal Fashion shows, or dating every wealthy _enculé_ that looks my way." Bruce's eyes widened slightly and he chuckled at her choice of swears. Babette sighed, "Forgive my language. I suppose that is not very lady like of me." They both chuckled together. "I am never certain, however, if I should be happy or regretful that I disappoint her so."

"Oh, happy. Definitely," Bruce supplied for her.

Babette looked up, surprised, "Oh? Do you really think so?" At Bruce's nod she continued, "Why? She is my mother! Should I not try to please her by being more like the other girls? More like she had been?"

Bruce shook his head fervently. "Definitely not! Daughters of royalty, wealth or fame are a dime a dozen. They look the same, talk the same, wear the same clothes, eat at the same restaurants, watch the same shows. They all act like they're something special, but when it really comes down to it; they're all exactly the same. You've met one Deb, you've met 'em all."

"That's quite a cynical point of view for one so young as us, do you not think?"

"Yeah well." Bruce shrugged and leaned back in the seat. "Up until about 1:30 this afternoon, that was exactly how I felt."

Babette felt encouraged by his statement and she smiled. "And now? What happened to change your mind?"

Bruce met her gaze and smiled, "It's sorta crazy how one person can turn your entire outlook on certain things completely upside down with a simple smile and a hello." Babette's smile turned into a full on grin that Bruce returned, so glad to see her 1000 watt smile again. Bruce twined his hands behind his head and leaned back on them, closing his eyes, trying to relax. Tensions had settled between them, and the air was much clearer. You could say comfortable. However, that didn't mean he couldn't tease her any more, "Of course, that doesn't mean I'm ready to forgive you for pervading yourself on my summer holiday."

Babette's grin faded and she crossed her arms. She couldn't believe the nerve of him. And she thought they were getting along too. When a grin broke out on Bruce's face, and he peaked open one eye to gage her reaction, however, Babette realized the joke in her expense. She rolled her eyes at him but more at herself for falling so easily. He was teasing her obviously.

Two could play at that game, however. "It was hardly my decision, I assure you."

Bruce opened both eyes to look at her, the smugness still in his features, "Oh, come on. Like you didn't ask daddy if you could spend the summer in Gotham? As if it's just some big coincidence our families happen to know each other?"

"I did not say that. What I meant was that coming here was not my idea. _I_ wanted to spend these months in a summer pre-course for the program I am starting in the Fall. However, in order to have my father's consent to attend Medical School at Oxford, I had to agree to take this summer off and _'relax'_." She hyphenated the word 'relax' with finger quotes in the air. "Coming here was simply a chosen middle ground. He would get me on a vacation, and I would have first hand accessibility to Thomas and Martha Wayne's work, right here in Gotham City."

Bruce was practically speechless after such an admission. "You came here to study my parents?" He could feel his ego deflating, then he remembered something else, "And wait! What do you mean you're starting Medical School in the fall? You're only 15!" Obviously, she was pulling his leg.

"Sixteen actually. And I just so happen to be a genius." Babette scrunched up her nose as if in thought, then continued, " 'Prodigy' I believe is the technical term." She coughed into her hand, trying desperately to hide her grin.

"Oh really? Well, I'm sure a large contribution by daddy to your university of choice was a **huge** help."

"Normally, you would think so. But actually I passed out of all the advanced equivalency tests just this past November. The only reason I am not enrolled in university at this exact time is because I wanted to find my own way. Fortunately for me, I just received the Stradivarius Scholarship."

"You can't be serious?!" But she was. Very serious. Bruce couldn't imagine someone deliberately wanting to start such a difficult life journey so soon.

"Oui, I am."

"But why? Surely your father is able to cover your tuition a dozen times over. Why go through all the extra work for a scholarship? Especially one as hard as the Stradivarius!" Babette was definitely proving to be one of the most intriguing people Bruce had ever met. A child of privilege, yet unwilling to use it.

Babette smiled and shook her head softly, "Some of us were not born with the silver spoons in our mouths, Bruce. Just because I find myself in the extraordinary position to possess anything I never dreamed existed, does not mean I want it. Learning, studying and school were my only comforts growing up. I had to make my own way in this world long before my parents rescued me, and I will continue to forge my own path for much more time to come." Once she realized what she had let slip, Babette immediately regretted saying it the instant it left her mouth. She just met this boy, and here she was practically giving away her entire sordid history with one sentence.

"Ever since they 'rescued you'? What does that mean?"

Babette sighed, "Does it matter? The road behind is insignificant. I am here, you are here, we are here. The only things that matter are the journey, the destination and the people you affect along the way."

That was not enough for Bruce, though. He was an intelligent young man, despite the persona he reflected at times. He realized this 'rescue' she speaks of might be how she hurt herself. He persisted, "How did you hurt your leg, Babette?"

Babette crossed her arms over her chest, "I don't remember." She crossed her legs and turned away from him, pretending to stare out the window.

"You can pull a convincing bluff, but we're not so good at the lying part, now, are we?"

"_Va te faire foutre, je ne m'inquiète pas. Tout simplement parce que vous obtenez normalement tout ce que vous voulez, cela ne signifie pas que je vais vous dire quelque chose." _Babette mumbled under her breath.

"Excuse me?" The only thing Bruce really caught in all of that were a few choice words that translated loosely to 'Screw you!' in French. Of course that was toning it down quite a bit. Apparently he'd touched a sore spot.

"_Vous avez entendu ce que j'ai dit. Je ne veux pas te parler plus longtemps, donc vous pouvez aller en enfer."_

"I can't understand what you're saying?..." Bruce responded, growing more and more frustrated at this turn of events. They'd been getting on so well. Why did he always have to push?

_"C'est l'idée, imbécile. Peut-être que si je continuer à parler en français assez longtemps, vous aurez un message et d'arrêter de me harceler?" _Babette knew she was probably overreacting a bit, but she'd accidentally opened a very sensitive, very deep wound. She had no desire to lay herself so bare to some boy she just met.

"Why are you acting like this? It was just a simple question," Apparently a very, VERY sore spot. "Look I'm sorry I ever said anything! Jesus!"

Babette sighed heavily and rubbed at her face, her jaw muscles clenching to fight back a few tears. She looked up at him and sighed heavily. She wanted to apologize for her behavior but before she could say anything, the privacy screen began rolling down catching both teens attention.

"Everything alright back here?" Maggie's voice echoed through the car's cabin.

Bruce and Babette exchanged a long look, but it was Bruce who answered, "We're fine."

"We heard raised voices?" That came from Alfred.

"Babette and I were just discussing some of the things we could do this summer."

"Oh, really? You've been talking about what you're gonna do this summer, eh?" Maggie smiled at Babette, even going so far as to wink. "Like what?"

"Well... I was just telling her about Eliche Gardens and it's twelve story tall roller coaster. The idea seemed to be exciting her some, hence the loud voices."

Babette smiled at Maggie and nodded her head. Maggie grinned, "Well that sounds like a right bit of fun, don' it? I'm sure you'd both have a lovely time!"

Babette smiled again, "Oui. I have never been on a... uh... 'roller coaster' before."

"Don't worry." Bruce gained Babette's attention again. He was glad to see some of the previous tension drain from her features. "I'll be sure to hold your hand." He winked, which actually made Babette blush softly. Was it terrible of him to delight in making her do that?

Well that was one crisis averted. Maggie leaned through the privacy screen window and aimed her focus towards Babette. She engaged the young girl in a conversation in Babette's own language.

_'Are you alright, dear? You seem a little... upset...' _Maggie half frowned. She knew Babette better than most so she could tell when something was wrong.

_'Yes, I'm fine, Maggie. I am just really, very tired.'_ Babette responded with a sorrowful tone.

Maggie tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips together, _'Are you sure that's all that's bothering you, sweetheart?'_

Babette sighed heavily, and then glanced sidelong at Bruce before directing her attention back to Maggie. _'Can we talk about it later, Maggie? I am seriously far too exhausted to go into it right now. Perhaps when more of the pain has subsided and I can put some ice on my hip I will be in a more expressive mood?'_

"_Very well then, love. I understand._" Maggie smiled and took Babette's hand in a show of comfort and support. "Well, me old chap here says we're only about twenty more minutes out from Wayne manor so we'll have plenty of opportunity for rest shortly."

"Tres bien. Merci, Maggie." Babette returned her smile, appreciating the maid's complete understanding.

"For now, I'm gonna roll this back up darlin' so us old folks can get back to our gossipin' and you two can get back to the _canoodlin'_!" Maggie winked at Bruce, who smirked, while Babette looked positively scandalized.

"Maggie?!" Babette whined.

"Ta, darling." The privacy screen rolled back up as Babette shook her head at her older- but at times more immature -friend.

"Canoodling?" Bruce had one lone eyebrow raised in question and that same adorably annoying smirk on his face. Babette could only roll her eyes as a slight blush crept up her cheeks.

Bruce moved to open the mini fridge across from where Babette was sitting. He grabbed two cans of pop, then sat back down on the seat next to Babette. He extended the second can to her, "Care for a drink?"

Babette smiled and took the offered beverage. Normally she did not drink carbonated beverages, but she was supposed to be on vacation, right? She decided to live a little. "Thank you." She took the can from him after he popped it open for her.

The two settled back into a light conversation for the remainder of the trip to Wayne Manor. By the time they arrived at his home, Bruce's entire concept of Babette Leclair had been dashed. Not only did she surprise him in almost every way, but there were so many things about her that boggled him to no end. She definitely had that closed off, mysterious thing going for her. She had a history though she was very reluctant to talk about it. Which, obviously, only made Bruce want to uncover that mystery even more. Sure, he could read all the tabloids he wanted, but he doubted very much that any of them even touched base on the most recent addition to the Leclair name.

If Bruce was to be honest with himself, he couldn't say he wasn't attracted to her. She wasn't drop-dead-gorgeous, sex-on-legs or anything like that, no. Nor did she try to be. Babette had this demure and graceful air of mystery and beauty about her. Her's was a classic beauty; the kind one expected to find in works of Michaelangelo, and DaVinci. (Or even in one of those pin-up novels from the 20's and 40's?) It was obvious the girl had no real idea just how beautiful she was, and to be honest, that only made her all the more appealing.

Rachel aside, Babette was the first girl in a long time who Bruce had ever wanted to really get to know better. Physical attributes aside, Babette had one of the most attractive minds Bruce had ever encountered. She was obviously smart; going for a medical degree at the young age of sixteen at one of the most highly ranked universities in the world with one of _the most_ difficult scholarships to get in the history of mankind? There was no question in his mind that she was smart; which, since he was still being honest with himself, did intimidate him slightly. Bruce was no dunce, but he wasn't in the top percent of any sort of academics either. Granted, that was partly due to lack of trying, but that's hardly the point.

Babette was a hard cookie to crack. Several parts of her demeanor were slightly contradictory which secretly fascinated Bruce. She was incredibly shy, yet very well spoken and quick to temper. She was the daughter of a very wealthy and influential family, with enough money to give her the most glamourous life she could imagine, yet she seemed to want little to no part of it. She was passionate about her studies, her goals and desires and driven to see them through, but she talked about it as if it were an every day thing. Her sense of humour was sarcastic and a bit dry which Bruce found incredibly adorable. He could even imagine her as a total social klutz, especially since she seemed to have no trouble speaking her mind when she felt strongly about something, which was a trait Bruce admired. Some people, however did not see the value in such a trait. She seemed very curious and intuitive, with a hidden adventurous streak which Bruce was looking forward to tapping into.

Yep. Bruce Wayne would definitely have to watch it this summer or he might just end up actually enjoying himself.

**_(A/N:_**_ Wow that was a bit of a doozy, huh? Some much needed Summer fun at Gotham Manor coming up. Hope you enjoyed! BTW Dark Knight has been playing like every night for the past week on one of the movie channels on TV so I've watched it quite a few times and it's really put me in a "Batman" mood which is why I've been writing so much for this fic! Hope ya'll enjoy it as much as I do!  
**Reader Poll **** Now if I could but take a second of your time, I have a question I would like to pose to everyone... A sort of poll as you will... So here it is, *ahem* Should I have the Joker kill Rachel just like in the movie, or should I write in a way to somehow keep her alive?******  
I know I am not even close to the Dark Knight story line at this point, but I do have plot developed that far in my head. Therefore, I would like to know in advance what you, my reader's, think... For it _may_ or may _not_ influence my writing... kthx  
As always any and all feedback is appreciated!  
Cheers! _=^.^=_)_

**_||French Translations||_**

_Va te faire foutre, je ne m'inquiète pas. Tout simplement parce que vous obtenez normalement tout ce que vous voulez, cela ne signifie pas que je vais vous dire quelque chose.  
~~Screw you, I don't care. Just because you normally get everything you want, does not mean I'm going to tell you anything._

Vous avez entendu ce que j'ai dit. Je ne veux pas te parler plus longtemps, donc vous pouvez aller en enfer.  
~~You heard me. I don't want to talk about it any more, so you can go to hell.

_C'est l'idée. Peut-être que si je continuer à parler en français assez longtemps, vous aurez un message et d'arrêter de me harceler?  
~~That's the idea. Maybe if I continue speaking in French long enough, you'll get the message and stop pestering me?_

_encule ~~ cocksucker, fucker, bastard, wanker, etc. etc. etc._

_Tres bien ~~ Very good_


	8. Human Reproduction & Procreation: Vol I

**_Disclaimer:_****_ I do not own Batman or Christian Bale, or anything related to either them or DC comics! I am not making any money off of this! It's merely for my own entertainment, and hopefully to entertain others in the process! Thank you!_**

**_...|| June 3, 1990._****_ Wayne Manor, Gotham City._****_ ||..._**

Bruce startled awake to a sound of ringing and he slammed his hand on his alarm clock to silence it, only for the ringing to start again. Bruce groaned and rolled over where he picked up his phone from its cradle. He rubbed his head with his free hand, completely mussing his hair, before answering, " 'lo?" His greeting was muffled halfway by a large yawn.

_"Bruce? Please don't tell me you were still sleeping?"_ a young woman's voice asked over the line.

"As a matter of fact, Miss Dawes, you did!" He said her name mockingly.

_"You can't be serious, Bruce. It's freakin' 12 o'clock in the afternoon. What the hell are you still doing in bed?" _Rachel asked, sounding incredulous.

"I happened to be sleeping!" Bruce could practically hear Rachel rolling her eyes at him and he smirked. "Anyway... To what do I owe the wake up call?"

_"I just wanted to know if you would be game for wasting the afternoon at The Queue?"_ Rachel asked. _"I don't start summer school for another week and I'm bored out of my mind over here."_

Bruce chuckled, "Yeah, Rache. That sounds good to me."

_"Really?__ Awesome! I know we go there all the time but-"_

"Nah!" Bruce cut her off mid sentence. "I missed last time, so that sounds great to me."

_"Would you wanna invite Babette?"_ Rachel asked. "_The couple times I've met her, she's seemed pretty cool. It could be fun!"_

"Sure," Bruce responded. "I was gonna invite her anyway."

_"Oh?"_ Rachel almost sounded surprised, and was that a hint of jealousy he detected?

Bruce smiled into the phone before continuing. "Yeah. She seems to have led a sort of sheltered life, so I'm not sure if she's ever even been to a pool hall. I think she'd have a lot of fun with us."

_"Is she gonna do that spouting-rapid-French-when-she's-excited thing?"_ Rachel asked.

The question made Bruce laugh out loud, "Yeah probably! She's quite the character isn't she?"

_"That's for sure. Well, regardless it should be fun!"_ Again, Bruce could practically hear the smile on Rachel's face. Babette tended to have that effect on people. She was very likable.

"No doubts." Bruce responded. He sat up a little more and scratched the back of his head. "So I'll get Babette and we'll come pick you up at say," another pause where Bruce lifted his alarm clock to look at the time. Shit Rachel wasn't exaggerating. It was half past noon. "How does two O'clock sound?"

_"Sounds like a plan."_ Rachel responded cheerily.

"Great! That gives us plenty of time. So I guess I'll see ya later, then?"

_"Cool,"_ was her reply.

"Cool. Bye, Rach."

_"Later, Bruce."_ With that last remark, Bruce leaned over and placed the handset back in its cradle.

He threw his tangled sheets back and swung his feet over the bed where he leaned his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands over his face, which was followed by a long stretch. A yawn began forming on his lips where he moved one hand to cup his mouth, and the other reached down to scratch his rib cage. He rubbed his face in his hands one more time before standing up and padding his way to his bathroom to begin his morning ritual. He was gonna skip on the shower today, but with a visit to the Queue and hence a social experience in today's works, he thought better of it. Then, after sniffing his arm pit he decided a shower was definitely in order.

By the time Bruce exited the glass shower the bathroom was practically a sauna. He rapidly shook a towel through his hair before wrapping it around his waste. When he approached the fogged up mirror, he ran his hand over it several times to clear the image. He closely inspected his face where a nice day old stubble had grown in. He stared a long moment at his reflection debating on whether he should shave or keep growing it out. Lately he'd been toying with the idea of growing a mustache.

After about five minutes, the debate ended with him squeezing a large dollop of shaving cream into his palm and slathering it liberally over his face.

A clean shaved, casually dressed Bruce Wayne exited his bedroom twenty minutes later. He donned a pair of dark blue jeans and a black shirt over it, that he buttoned all but the top three buttons. The cuffs he'd left undone. His hair was gelled back. A pair of black converse sneakers completed the ensemble.

Bruce made his way down the hall to the guest room Babette was in. He knocked several times and waited... There was no answer. He knocked again, then spoke her name, "Babette? It's Bruce?" He waited a few more minutes, however there was still no response forthcoming. He grabbed the door knob and turned. Finding it to be unlocked he pushed it open, "Babette are you in here?" Bruce looked inside where there was no sign of the girl, save for a few open books on her bed and the desk.

Bruce entered the room as his feet seemed to move by themselves. He walked over to the desk where he flipped over the front cover of one of the open books to read its title. "Encyclopedia of Anatomy?" he whispered to himself. The girl was most serious about her studies. He looked at more of the books names and titles. They were all pretty much the same. Even the ones on her nightstand. Most of them had something or other ado about biology, chemistry, or medicine. When his gaze fell on her bed, however, something caught his eye.

So distracted in his exploration was he that he had never heard the shower running. Too caught up with his focus on the bright, out of place, yellow covered book on the bed, that he hadn't heard the water shut off either. The book had seemed to be hidden almost meticulously under the others. When Bruce lifted it free, he saved the place it was opened to with his thumb before he closed it to read it's title.

"Bruce!" The boy in question startled, turning towards the now open bathroom door, where a recently showered and robed Babette was standing. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Well... I uh, I knocked three times but there was no answer..." he tried to defend himself.

"Because I was _in the shower!"_ She shouted at him. "So you just decide to make yourself comfortable? What 'ave you been doing?"

"I was curious about your books." Bruce sunk onto the bed as a huge grin spread across his face when he realized just exactly what the yellow book was about. He found even more amusement at the place Babette had left off at.

Babette noticed none of this however, as she went to the desk to rearrange the books he'd messed up. "Aw! These were in a certain order, Bruce! Cross referenced for my research!" She whined.

"Yeah." Bruce's smirk was even in his voice as he flipped a page. "This is some interesting research."

"What?" She turned to look at him, where she found his focus stapled to the book in his hands. When she saw just exactly which book he was reading, Babette's eyes widened to saucers and she ran over to try to snatch the book from Bruce's hand. "No. Don't touch that!"

Bruce was too fast for her however as he leaned away from her and held the book out of her reach. Babette climbed all over him, and the two wrestled around on her bed as Bruce began reading out loud. The laughter was evident in his voice as he quoted the text, " 'Sexual intercourse, also known as copulation or _coitus_, commonly refers to the act in which the male reproductive organ enters the female reproductive tract.' "

Bruce laughed as he managed to keep wrestling free from Babette's reach so he could continue his recitation, " 'The two entities may be of opposite sexes, or not... Or they may be hermaphroditic, as is the case with snails.' "

"Bruce, give it back!" She fought to steal the book back as her entire body from neck to forehead, flushed a bright crimson red.

To escape her grasp Bruce stood up abruptly and continued reading, " 'In recent years, penetration of non-sexual organs -oral intercourse or anal intercourse- or _by_ non-sexual organs such as fingering and fisting, are also sometimes included in this definition.' "

With a loud grunt that sounded more like a growl Babette jumped from the bed onto Bruce's back, bringing them both to the ground. Bruce laughed as he held the book just out of Babette's grasp. "Hold on, sweetheart, I'm trying to read here. But if you'd prefer some hand's on instruction..."

From atop Bruce, practically straddling him, Babette reached for the book which he pulled away, "This is not amusing, Bruce!"

Bruce grinned, "On the contrary, I find it very amusing and informative, don't you?" At Babette's silence he continued to tease, "Well you must, seeing as how it was saved at this very page?"

When Bruce seemed like he was about to continue his recitation of the beginning chapter on "Human Reproduction" Babette decided she'd had enough. No more playing nice. To Bruce's utter surprise, Babette quite unexpectedly pinched a nerve on his shoulder, causing him to lower his arm in pain. She took the opportunity, flipping him over where she grabbed his wrist and pinned his arm painfully behind his back. She used her other arm to press his head into the carpet.

Bruce groaned out, "Whoa, whoa, hey! Easy, doll!" This was a twist, no pun intended. How the hell did she just do that?

Babbette grunted angrily as she wrenched her copy of "Human Production and Procreation. Volume I" out of Bruce's hand. "You are such a bastard, you know that?" For emphasis she nudged his head into the carpet just a little harder

"Yeah... I know." He rubbed the back of his neck and sat up looking sheepish. "Sorry. It was partly your own fault though." Babette glared but before she could object, Bruce continued. "What? It was! If you hadn't risen to the bait so easily, it wouldn't have been half as fun. With you getting all huffy, defensive and jumpy I just couldn't bring myself to stop."

Babette sat across from him and crossed her arms over her chest. She stood up and threw the offending piece of literature on the pile with the others. It was all meant to have been in fun, so Bruce attempted to spare her hurt pride, "Come on, Betty! You don't see even just a little bit of the humour? Not even when you started jumping all over me like a monkey?" She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to pout but she couldn't stop the smirk that was slowly forming on her lips. "There it is!" Bruce finished triumphantly.

Babette chuckled softly, "Fine. I'll admit, it was slightly humourous. But you are still a bastard. And my name is not Betty."

Bruce grinned, "Fair enough." He conceded. IT had kind of just rolled off his tongue. Now that he'd said it though he kinda liked it. Bruce made a mental note to use it more often. What was still curious to him though was why she seemed so damn afraid of that book? "Why would you be so secretive of something like that anyway, Betty? I mean it's all common knowledge and nothing to be ashamed of."

The blush was back, but it wasn't just from the mention of the book. His new name for her hit a spot deep down inside. She liked his new nickname for her. But she wasn't about to tell _him_ that. Instead, Babette rolled her eyes at him, and herself, for acting so silly. She couldn't believe she was having this conversation right now, with Bruce Wayne of all people.

She took a deep breath and sighed heavily, "I understand the fundamentals behind sex well enough; Hormones, Menstrual cycles, Reproduction, child birth, ekcetra." She could never pronounce etcetera right, but it was cute when she tried. There was another heavy sigh from her throat. "The practical application, however, has always seemed to allude me. The girls back home talk about it all the time and I often find myself completely, how you say, in the black." Another shrug. "I fear I am too shy to ask questions. So when I found that... wretched book mixed in with all the other medical journals the University library loaned me, I became... curious."

"So? There's nothing wrong with that." Bruce said touching her shoulder in a show of comfort.

A crooked grin graced her lips and she shrugged softly. "Such curiosity may not be shameful, Bruce. However it is very embarrassing, nonetheless."

Apparently she hadn't been pulling his leg when she told him she had spent most of her life in a convent. Sixteen years old with no physical comprehension of sex? That was a _damn_shame. Don't get him wrong! At barely fifteen Bruce was still himself a virgin, but at least he was intimately familiar of how it could feel and what went where. He was in no rush to take any of the junior trustfund brigade bimbos up on any of their 'offers.' Sure Bruce Wayne may flirt, and pander, and swoon, but of the junior socialites that tried to hang all over him, none of them were, as Alfred would say, his "cup o' tea."

After a bit of an awkward silence where Bruce was mulling over this latest revelation, Babette felt scrutinized so she tried to break through the awkwardness by clearing her throat. "Earlier excitement aside, Bruce, did you have some grand purpose in seeking me out before you _so politely_ invaded my privacy? Or had you entered with the simple hopes of catching me in my panties?"

Bruce chuckled at her sarcastic remarks, "Well, I did originally have something to ask you, but if you're offering to show me panties I'd be more than happy to-" Bruce was cut off as a large book went flying past his head. When he turned to look, Babette was readying to throw another, even heavier looking medical journal at his head. "Kidding! I was kidding! Jesus, Betty. Put the encyclopedia down!"

Babette smirked as she set the book back down on the pile. She wasn't really gonna throw it at him, though she would be totally justified if she had. Why was he able to bait and tease her so easily? And why did she always seem to rise to the occasion?

She sighed heavily. "Very well. If it is answers you seek..." She sat down on the trunk at the foot of her bed, and subtly patted her hand on the space next to her. Bruce responded by sitting down in that very spot. "What did you need to ask me, hm?" She inquired.

"Nothing serious. Rachel and I, and a couple friends were gonna head down for a some burgers and billiards at The Queue. We wanted to know if you'd wanna come?"

Babette's brow furrowed together slightly, "By billiards do you mean things like parlour games?"

Bruce chuckled softly, "Yeah. Ya know? Like pool and darts and stuff. It's our favorite hang out in the city." Bruce thought for a moment she might actually decline and it made him a little sad. He gave her a playful nudge with his shoulder. "Come on! One afternoon won't kill you. Your books will still be here tomorrow and you can satisfy all that _curiosity_ of yours to your heart's content." Bruce waggled his eyebrows suggestively, which only caused Babette to roll her eyes. He was such a pervert. Then again, what 15 year old boy wasn't? He still managed to achieve a giggle and a blush from the girl, so his mission was accomplished.

Babette worried her bottom lip as she thought it over for a moment. Little known to Bruce, she was actually very familiar with pool. Her father had a large table in his study and apart from the late nights of poker, he had also taught her the fine art of the pool queue. It had not been too difficult to figure out. There was surprisingly a lot of math involved.

Most of her typical social settings the past few months had been limited to stuffy tea parties and luncheons, and weekend fashion shows. An afternoon like Bruce proposed sounded positively delightful. A wide grin spread on her lips and Bruce knew he'd won. "Alright," she said enthusiastically. "It sounds perfect. I would love to go."

Bruce shared her grin, "Well great!" He had to restrain himself from hugging her. "I told Rachel we'd pick her up at two. Think you can be ready in half an hour?"

Babette nodded, "Oui. Probably sooner. I just need to get dressed."

A sly smirk broke out on Bruce's face as realization hit him that this entire time, wrestling around with Babette on her bed with her climbing all over him, she had been wearing nothing but a Terry cloth bathrobe.

Babette stood up, but When Bruce just leaned back on his arms, showing no intention of leaving her room, Babette placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot. Bruce just smirked up at her, "What?"

"Out!" She ordered, as she pointed a finger towards the door.

"Aw," Bruce whined as he sat up. "You mean I can't watch?"

Babette glared murderously and growled before she pulled him up and started pushing him towards the door. "Alright, alright! I'll leave you to it then." He opened the door and turned where he shared a smile with the still blushing girl. "I'll be downstairs when you're ready."

Babette nodded to Bruce as he left, almost slamming the door behind him. As he stood in the hallway, no sooner had he shut the door, had he heard the lock turn, almost dramatically.

With a smug look on his face, Bruce proceeded downstairs with his hands in his pockets, chuckling softly to himself. He'd said it before and he'll say it again. Babette definitely had a way of making things... interesting.

When Bruce made his way into the Kitchen, Alfred looked up from his lunch and newspaper. "Good afternoon, Master Bruce. You are looking well this morning." In fact, Alfred had not seen the boy so at ease and relaxed in some time. He even wore a silly grin on his face, from ear to ear. Alfred bet he could guess he knew the young person responsible behind that. "Are you hungry?" He asked.

Bruce waved off the question as he sat down at the breakfast table, picking up the portion of the newspaper Alfred was done with.

"You seem to be in a fine mood, Master Bruce." Alfred subtly fished for answers.

Bruce chuckled and rubbed the back of his head before glancing upstairs. "Well, it has been a rather _interesting_ morning, Alfred."

"Oh, really? How so, then?" Alfred asked. Bruce shook his head, and once more waved off the question.

Alfred raised an eyebrow as a smirk spread on his own face. He had heard laughter and giggling from upstairs just moments ago, which he now knew might be the cause of Bruce's unusually good mood. Truly, Babette's presence has been good for them all, Bruce especially.

Bruce began to peruse the sports section and became heavily absorbed in a story about some scandal involving a baseball player and a few mistresses. He didn't remove his eyes from the small print until he heard Alfred set down his paper and speak cheerily, "Ah, Miss Leclair! How was the tour this morning?" Alfred stood up and walked over to greet her, where Babette received his greeting in her traditional French way; kissing the side of each of his cheeks.

"It was wonderful, Alfie! Gotham's educational 'ospital is not so big so the tour was done sooner than expected, so they let me sit in on an instructional surgery! I got to see a real operation! It was remarkable!" She grinned brightly.

"Well... I'm glad you enjoyed yourself then." Alfred supplied, then added on a whisper, "By the way, you look positively _smashing_." Babette giggled softly at the compliment. "Are you hungry at all?" the butler finished.

Babette shook her head, "Non, Alfie. But thank you." Babette stepped around to join Bruce at the table.

Bruce gazed at her for a long while with his mouth gaping slightly like a fish out of water. For the past several weeks he had never seen Babette in anything other than what could only be described as 'teenaged business attire.' It had been dress and pant suits nearly every day since she arrived. So, needless to say, Bruce found himself slightly stunned to see her now.

The girl was wearing a hunter-green off-the-shoulder sweater-dress, with sleeves that billowed slightly at the cuff. Underneath the dress she wore black stirrup tights and a matching camisole. Actually, if Bruce knew his fashion, the black 'cami' and tights were more than likely one full body suit. For some reason, that fact made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he brought his hand up to rub the feeling away. The strappy sandals she wore were stylish yet practical, both words that could often be used to describe Babette Leclair. She already had legs that seemed to never end, so her choice of low heeled sandals was a wise decision, plus the color complimented the dress nicely.

Normally she wore her hair up in some way or another; a French bun, ponytail, long braid; but today she left it all to hang down around her shoulders. Though still damp, Bruce could tell she didn't put much product in it; that the curls and waves were natural. A black beret atop her head completed the ensemble. Bruce found himself pleasantly surprised. Babette Leclair might not be some high maintenance Fashionista, but the shy, demure, little book worm definitely had style.

When she sat down he blinked his eyes and shook his head. "Wow, Betty. You clean up nicely!"

Babette sighed heavily, "My name is Babette, Bruce!"

"I know!" Bruce grinned mischievously as he spoke, "So're you ready to go, Betty?" Babette scoffed and rolled her eyes at him, which only made Bruce laugh.

"And where are we off to today, then?" Alfred asked as he cleared the table from his lunch.

Bruce looked sheepishly towards Alfred as he rubbed the back of his head, "Uh... Yeah, Alfred. About that?" Babette could imagine if Bruce was wearing a tie he'd be adjusting it uncomfortably right about now. Bruce cleared his throat before continuing, "I was hoping I could use the Benz to take the girls to The Queue today."

Alfred draped the wash towel he was using to wipe the table over his shoulder. "I believe we have discussed this before, Master Bruce." He placed his hands on his hips before continuing, "A Learner's Permit does not _permit_ you to drive without a _Licensed_ driver in the front seat!"

"Aw, come on Alfred! Please? It's so lame when you have to chauffeur us around!"

"I'm sorry Master Bruce, but it is out of the question. You are not to go gallivanting about in an 80,000 dollar motor car without a licensed driver accompanying you."

"I have a license..." Babette cut in softly.

The retort directed at Alfred died on Bruce's lips as he realized what Babette had just said. He paused and turned to the girl, "What was that?"

Babette smiled and shrugged sheepishly, "Papa did not want me going off to Universitè without a way to get around. I passed my driver's test in Marseilles about six months ago."

The grin that broke out on Bruce's face was almost comical. He turned to Alfred but before the boy could think of some smart-aleck remark, Alfred pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered under his breath, "Oh, dear lord."

The grin on Bruce's face hadn't faded even a kilowatt since they left the manor. Babette couldn't help but smile, he looked so happy and content in the driver's seat of his family Mercedes, with no butler in sight.

"I still can't believe it!" Bruce exclaimed, startling his female co-pilot. He accented his enthusiasm with a soft pound to the steering wheel. "You have to positively be _the coolest _chick I know! Not in a million years would I have thought Alfred would go for that!"

Babette chuckled softly, "Papa 'as always told me I have a way with words."

"Well your pops is right! I've never seen Alfred so flustered." Bruce glanced at her briefly, flashing her a thousand-watt smile. "I can't wait to see Rachel's face when we tell her."


End file.
